


Night of the Hunter

by oopsgingermoment



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: American History, American Revolution, Angst, Assassin's Creed III, Assassins vs. Templars, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Mohawk tribe, Native American Character(s), Native American/First Nations Culture, Native American/First Nations History, Revenge, Revolutionary War, Romance, Shawnee tribe, Slow Burn, Tragedy, general badassery, native love, the slowest burn you've ever seen in your damn life, this fic is a huuuuge risk ngl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oopsgingermoment/pseuds/oopsgingermoment
Summary: In the face of tragedy, Alsoomse must seek answers in Massachusetts. Where death awaits, so does hope, along with a Mohawk assassin in a mysterious hood. Tribal enmity is forgotten, replaced with aligned goals and a mission toward freedom. With a strange letter in hand, a Shawnee huntress is on an even stranger journey where war and peace lay side by side with only a single hand to guide her. The war is on: Assassins and Templars, Patriots and Loyalists, and hidden underneath it all, a fight for the land they all live upon.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeeey! So after YEARS of sitting on this idea, I'm finally doing it. I'm writing an AC3 fic with a Frye twins flare. Sort of. lol  
> Long story short, Alsoomse is my favorite multiplayer character from the series. I was once part of the AC roleplay community on Tumblr and she was my muse. I've changed her story quite a bit since then, but I've always had this scenario in my head ever since 2012 where a fellow native woman helps Connor along the way. Her personal story is the only thing new here now that I've finally sat my ass down and am actually doing with this.  
> Some of you know me from my current Horizon: Zero Dawn fanfic "The Sun and Moon" or you're a new reader. Either way is fine, I just hope y'all will give this story a chance.  
> Updates will occur every two weeks on Fridays unless stated otherwise. The chapters I've written so far have been longer than any from TSAM so I need the extra time to write them/edit them.  
> Yes, the title of this fic is a reference to the song by Thirty Seconds to Mars. Consider it Alsoomse's theme throughout the story.  
> Thank you for your time and please enjoy. :)  
> EDIT: Changed a couple things for ease of reading and slightly better accuracy.

Alsoomse sighed quietly, wiping her hands off a plain piece of cloth as she finished skinning the fox she had hunted earlier that day. The village was quiet as usual, the most excitement coming from playful children or barking dogs. Later her father would take her to the riverbank to continue honing her skills as a warrior, even at this time of peace. Regardless of the fact that she had proven herself in battle just last year and in several raids prior, he insisted constant training was vital. She always needed to be ready. Her brother was one, although lately he often disappeared for as long as a month or more. Every time Alsoomse asked him about it, he told her it was a secret and that she was safer if she didn’t know. That annoyed her. She was a woman now, eighteen winters having passed since her birth. She could handle it.

She fingered her beads as she looked back on memories of her brother. He had always protected her, always teased. He was the elder of the two and even now he would tease her about men staring at her or he would shield her from those who would do her harm. Every time Alsoomse would have to remind him that she could handle herself just fine, but Joseph never listened.

There was the sound of commotion in the distance, causing Alsoomse to drop her hand from the strand of white beads and abandon her skinned kill. She found her mother along the way, grasping her hand urgently. “Do you know what is going on?” the girl inquired. Her mother shook her head.

“We will soon find out,” was her reply. Alsoomse had grown tall in the past few years, nearly equal in height to her father and brother. She could see, over the heads of others, that hunters were carrying a large bundle, her father lagging behind them. His face was void of emotion and that worried her. The only time he looked dead in the eyes like that was when something dreadful happened. If it weren’t for that, she would have assumed that the hunters had killed a buck.

The hunters pushed the crowd aside and moved toward Alsoomse and her mother. The women looked at each other nervously as the large bundle was set in front of their feet. “Wife,” Alsoomse’s father murmured to his wife before turning to Alsoomse. “My daughter. This is a sad day for our family.” Before Alsoomse could ask, the blanket was pulled back.

“No!” Alsoomse’s mother screamed, collapsing to her knees and weeping shrilly. Alsoomse collapsed next to her, sobbing.

“Brother, no,” she moaned, shakily cupping his cold cheeks. She could barely see his handsome face, her tears blurring her sight. Alsoomse didn’t notice her father rest on his knees as well. Her mother wailed loudly beside her.

“He died fighting,” one warrior tried to reassure them from above, but Alsoomse merely shook her head.

“The bastards,” she hissed. “I’ll kill them!”

“Alsoomse, no,” her father cut in, pressing a strong hand on her shoulder. “We cannot know who did this. We lost the track when we found his body. Whoever committed this crime is long gone now.”

“You do not know that.” Alsoomse shook off his hand. With each passing moment she felt angry, attempting to suppress her feelings are she clutched tightly onto her brother’s shirt and wept louder. Her body was numb and her ears were deaf, ignorant of everyone else that was gathered. With her grasp of fabric, she felt something stiff. Alsoomse faltered and wiped the tears away from her eyes. “What…?” she asked herself.

Looking to see if anyone was watching, Alsoomse gingerly slipped her fingers beneath Joseph’s shirt. There was a hidden pocket and inside, a letter. Stealthily she pulled it out and slipped it into her legging. She would read it when no one else was around, her curiosity managing to seep through her mourning for only a moment before passing away.

Joseph’s body was brought inside their home to rest. With her mother too grieved to move from his side, Alsoomse stood alongside her father to select the gravediggers and the funeral leader. Once the appropriate people were selected the village set to work to prepare for the funeral. It would be a long four days.

Following the purification the next day, Alsoomse dried her tears and held her mother upright as they endured the burial, her father doing his best to remain stoic through the process, but even the great war chief Benjamin, or the Bear as the British often called him, could not hide his tears. She could barely remember the feasts or the ceremonies that followed, her mind filled with endless questions. Why did this happen? Her brother was a good man. He could have been a leader, even a war chief after their father. Of all the men in the world, why had the Great Spirit chosen his life to cut short?

When at last her brother was buried and the ceremonies were over, Alsoomse sat next to the fresh grave, the grave house not yet built, with legs pressed against her chest and arms wrapped around her knees. She could see the letter she had taken from his body sticking out of her legging. She pulled it out, gazing at the envelope.

_Achilles Davenport and Connor  
Davenport Manor, Massachusetts_

That caught her attention. What was her brother doing with a letter addressed to settlers so far away from here? Swiftly Alsoomse ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter, desperate for any closure that may reside inside. Instead, what she found gave her only further confusion:

 

_My dear friends,_

_I trust this letter finds you well. Connor, your actions at Boston Harbor last December have not been forgotten. You will be an important ally in the years to come, of that I have no doubt. Mr. Adams has told our brothers within the Sons of Liberty about you and they agree firmly that you are full of strength and will. Much has happened for you since that night, I am sure. I dearly hope that your people are safe now that Johnson has left this world. In any case, I wished to forewarn you that you may be called upon again in the near future, but of what yet I cannot say. You will be informed in person in due time. Until then, hold fast._

_Yours truly,_

_Patrick Henry_

Alsoomse sat still. What the hell? Was this trivial thing what her brother was killed for? Certainly, the colonists were getting more rowdy and the British were struggling to keep the peace, but to kill an Indian over a conversational letter? Either this was just pure hatred for her people or this ran deeper. Far deeper. She had to know the truth. She needed to know who killed Joseph and why.

 

“You will not go. I forbid it,” Alsoomse’s mother cried, rising sharply to her feet to stare into the eyes of her daughter. “I have already lost one child. I will not lose another.”

Alsoomse’s amber eyes narrowed. “I refuse to sit here, pondering over the circumstances of my brother’s death, without knowing the truth!” she insisted, whirling around to face her father next. “You cannot believe that some settler did this! Joseph was one of our best warriors. Someone had been lying in wait for him! They knew from where he came and where he was going to.”

Her father stared coolly at her. “The women’s council and I agree. We will not risk our warriors for a cold trail that we cannot follow. We must think of the entire village, not of our own grief,” he told her. He could see the fire in her eyes, the strength in her back. She was like a bobcat ready to strike. He sighed softly and approached her, affectionately rubbing her arms. “I know you are angry. So am I. We all are.”

Alsoomse scoffed. “And yet you tell me I cannot follow the _one_ lead we have?” she demanded. He faltered.

“It is just a simple letter,” he tried to dissuade her, but Alsoomse only shook her head.

“If that were true, my brother would still be alive.”

The wigwam fell silent. Neither one of her parents could ignore the truth in her words. Alsoomse’s father thought long and hard, glancing back and forth between his wife and his daughter several times. Finally, his shoulders sank. “You are your own woman now,” he started slowly. “In truth, I cannot stop you if you choose to go alone.”

Catherine inhaled sharply. “You cannot be serious. You are letting her go?” the woman croaked. This was a fool’s errand that would only result in Alsoomse’s death and then she would have no children left. She could eventually bear the death of one child, but not two.

“I cannot stop her. You know this as much as I do.” He looked tenderly at his wife. “All we can do is pray for her,” he told her, coming to her to stroke her chin. “Our daughter is strong like a cougar and swift like a hawk. I do not know why the Great Spirit took our son, but perhaps he will protect our daughter.”

Alsoomse’s mother stared up at her husband before finally heaving a breath she had been holding. This was a battle she couldn’t win. “Very well,” she finally relented, as much as it pained her. “But I beg of you. Be careful. That letter is a curse.” Alsoomse's lungs deflated as she clung to her mother.

"I will take care of myself. I promise."

Alsoomse packed that very night, filling bag of leather with some extra clothes, food, and her weapons. She barely slept that night, slipping in and out of consciousness until the sun rose. With final farewells to her parents and at her brother’s grave, she set out for Massachusetts. “All right,” she spoke softly as she mounted her horse. “You may have claimed my brother, Great Spirit, but you cannot have me.” With that, she nudged her horse forward to a canter. She had a long trip before her. Alsoomse wasn’t sure how far she would go to discover the truth of her brother’s untimely demise, but she desired with all her being to avenge him. She would find his killer and end him. The monster deserved nothing less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little disclaimer that I want to make clear: I am not Native American/First Nations, much less Shawnee. While I've spent years researching what little is out there about the Shawnee nation in the 18th century (trust me, it's a bitch, and I don't have access to the proper libraries), I don't claim to be an expert on Shawnee culture or the indigenous experience. I know I'm going to have something wrong, and I implore any member of any Shawnee tribe that just so happens to read this to correct me or aid me. Sensitive and accurate work is important to me as I cannot hope to ever completely understand the mind or background of an indigenous woman, historic or modern. I've made some major mistakes and have said stupid things in the past when I was a dumbass teenager that I still am trying to atone for to this day and I can only hope this is a step in the right direction.  
> I'm asking each and every one of you to take this story with a grain of salt. At the end of the day, it's a video game fan fiction, not a history book. Alsoomse is a fictional character that Ubisoft pinned the Shawnee tribe name on (the least they could've done was work with someone like George Blanchard to properly depict her but no, why would they do that? >.>). I'm working with what information I have for her background, but the focal point is Assassin's Creed and its portrayal of the American Revolution.  
> Hopefully that covers everything. If not, I'll bring up anything forgotten in the future.  
> Thank you for reading and I hope you guys will stick around. :)  
> P.S. If you know who Patrick Henry was, you get brownie points from me. :P  
> EDIT: Input from those of other tribes/nations are equally appreciated. :)


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! It's been two weeks, so that means it's time for chapter one!  
> Alsoomse is given a physical description in this chapter. She's dressed as accurately as I could get, and if you want a general visual you can reference to Nonhelema's appearance in the TV show "Timeless" (which, by the way, is AMAZING and gives this budding historian constant feels about her favorite people and moments of history. Fingers crossed that it gets renewed for a third season). Major shout out to the showrunners for the effort they've put in with consulting with Shawnee language and cultural experts in order to depict Nonhelema and the other Shawnee characters accurately.  
> I won't waste any more time, please enjoy. :)

The journey was long. Even on horseback Massachusetts was far from the Kentucky territory. Alsoomse persisted, hunting when she needed to replenish food and stopping by rivers and creeks to refill her deerskin with water. Her horse needed rest as well, which would only slow her down further. She decidedly stayed away from settlers, instead seeking out her tribe’s allies and other native villages for guidance along the way.

Alsoomse knew the Homestead was just to the north of Boston, perched along the coast. It was an amiable place for trade regardless of skin color or cultural background, which was something she felt was admirable. It sounded like it was a large estate, run by an elderly man and his apprentice. She assumed those two were the Achilles and Connor mentioned in the letter found in her brother’s pocket. Once she found them, she would give them their damned letter and demand answers from them.

Often Alsoomse would continue her journey on foot, leading her horse along as she stretched her legs and attempted to give her sore rear some reprieve. She had never ridden on horseback for more than a couple days, but she was pushing a week now. She could easily have cut the time but she had no desire to wear herself or her stallion out to the brink of exhaustion. With a sigh she stopped her horse and dismounted, letting him graze as she pulled out her map to study. Based on her calculations she would make it to Boston by nightfall, which meant she could arrive to the Homestead tomorrow. Reenergized with this knowledge, the huntress put the map away and slung herself back into the saddle. With a click of her tongue, Alsoomse nudged the stallion forward and cantered toward the coastal city.

 

The sun had just sunk beneath the horizon by the time Alsoomse found an inn. When she had arrived at Boston, she could feel the tension pierce into her back. People stared and whispered behind their hands. Soldiers and civilians alike watched her with scrutiny as if waiting for her to attack them. Alsoomse ignored them as best as she could, opting against asking for help as she searched for a place to spend the night until at last she arrived at The Green Dragon.

With her horse unsaddled and resting in the stable for the night, Alsoomse stepped through the threshold of the tavern door. There were the sounds of drunken laughter and chairs scraping the floor, conversations muted by distance. Further in she entered, but with each step she took the entire room fell quiet. “My God, an Indian,” one man whispered, causing Alsoomse to clench her jaw. She was not about to start an argument, instead eyeing a woman serving at the bar. All eyes watched her as she walked.

“Excuse me,” the huntress started, “would you happen to know who I must ask for a room for the night?”

The older woman’s mouth gaped before she collected herself. “Uh, I suppose I can help you, dear,” she muttered, eyes flicking between the native woman and a man who stood nearby. Her husband? “Would you like a meal as well?”

Alsoomse shook her head. “That will not be necessary. All I require is a bed.”

The woman nodded and beckoned the other to follow her. “This way, please,” she spoke. Alsoomse followed, continuing to ignore the men in the room and instead marching up the stairs. The climb gave her a much-needed stretch of her legs. Once they reached the top the silver-haired lady led her to a single room before turning back to her. “How will you be paying?”

“I have coins,” Alsoomse assured her, pulling out her purse. “How much?”

“Two crowns, please.”

She really didn’t care whether the woman was scamming her or not. She was exhausted and didn’t desire to fight with anyone, so she fished out the coins and placed them in the innkeeper’s palm. “Thank you. I appreciate it,” she uttered appreciatively. “I will leave you to your other guests.” The woman didn’t linger and Alsoomse didn’t mind the cold shoulder. She merely shut the door and locked it before collapsing on the bed. Fatigue overpowered hunger and she didn’t bother undressing for the night. She merely kicked off her moccasins, rested her head on the pillow, and closed her eyes. Not even a minute had passed before she was dead asleep.

 

When the sun rose, so did the hunter. Alsoomse ate cold meat and dried fruit from her bag, having no desire to interact with the strangers of this city more than she had to. She knew what they thought of her. She knew of the names they would refer to her as. Savage. Half-breed. Indian. Squaw. It made her uncomfortable. If they believed their God made them all equal, then why was the red man treated like an animal? Why was the black man enslaved to a white master? Even their own women were looked upon as less than white men. So much for their “civilized” ways.

Stomach full and personal items collected, she made her way downstairs, not bothering to speak to anyone as she went outside and headed for the stables. Thankfully her horse was where he was supposed to be, even groomed and fed like the others. Quickly Alsoomse tacked him with his bridle, blanket, and saddle before mounting, nudging him forward onto the streets of Boston once more. She wanted to get out as soon as possible, to get away from the mistrusting eyes of the city dwellers and the loaded muskets of the soldiers. She did not belong here.

As soon as she was outside the city limits Alsoomse kicked her steed into a full gallop, anxious to reach her destination. It was refreshing to see a forest again, their boughs stretching out to the sun. It was chilly this morning; Massachusetts was a different type of cold than Kentucky was. At least her village was away from the coast, so the wet chill of the ocean wasn’t added to already frigid air.

Alsoomse stopped briefly for lunch, building a fire so that she could warm up. It appeared that the snow was melting—barely. As she ate she wrapped her blanket tighter around herself. She cooked some rabbit meat and drizzled it with a bit of honey that she had purchased from a trader some time ago. The price was a little steep, but the honey combined with the meat was a delectable treat, and thus the woman determined the price worth it. She nibbled on some dried root, dropping handfuls of snow over the fire to put it out before mounting her horse again.

According to the map, she was only a few miles away. Alsoomse felt relief, although a sense of anxiety nagged at her too. What was she supposed to do once she reached the manor? Certainly getting any information out of the two men would be like pulling teeth. She had a feeling they wouldn’t give in to her inquiries as easily as she honestly hoped. They would tell her to go away, that this didn’t concern her. She didn’t know how, but she would get answers from them even if it killed her.

It took just under an hour before she finally began to see signs of the Davenport property. There was a bridge to cross and as she pressed on Alsoomse could see houses here and there scattered down the road. One woman was out drying laundry with children playing nearby and as she went further down the street she spied two men trimming down massive logs. They stopped what they were doing, shaded their eyes, and stared. Of course. This was a white man’s settlement.

“Can I help you, miss?” the one with bright red hair and an equally bright red beard asked.

“I hope,” Alsoomse replied. “Would you be able to tell me where I can find an Achilles Davenport or a Connor?”

The other man, who practically doubled in size compared to his companion, nodded and pointed down to a massive white mansion in the distance. “You’re in luck; they’re both home today,” he told her. “Connor’s gone a lot, but he’s been here a couple weeks now.”

Alsoomse glanced at the manor and nodded. “Thank you,” she replied, nudging her horse to a steady trot. She could still hear the men speak from behind her.

“Wonder what a native girl’s doing here?” the first man asked.

“Maybe she knows Connor,” the second man offered.

“Maybe. But she don’t look Mohawk to me.”

While a part of her was dying with curiosity, Alsoomse was determined to get her answers from the two men in the manor first. Anyone else who spotted her as she journeyed up the hill was ignored.

At last she had arrived, swinging herself down from the saddle. Light snow crunched beneath her feet. “I will return soon,” Alsoomse told her horse tenderly, pressing an affectionate kiss on his muzzle. The stallion snorted, flicking his tail as she tied him against the post. She grabbed the mysterious letter from her saddlebag before trekking up the hill further to the large white house. With a sputtering heart, she knocked.

It took a moment, but at last the door was opened. An old African man was on the other side of it, leaning on a cane. This was the last thing Alsoomse had expected. “Yes?” the man asked, analyzing the girl in front of him. Another native? What was one doing here this time?

“Are you,” Alsoomse paused, starting to feel unsure, “are you Achilles Davenport?”

Achilles quirked an eyebrow. “I am,” he confirmed, still calculatedly staring at the girl. “And who are you?”

“I am Alsoomse,” the huntress replied, fighting back any last-minute thoughts telling her this was a bad idea. “I came here because, well, it is difficult to explain.” She paused and looked down at the envelope in her hands. Achilles’ eyes followed her movements. “This was meant for you, I think….” She tentatively handed him the envelope.

Achilles took the envelope and noted the torn seal. It was broken rather atrociously as if some beast had ravaged it. “What right have you to open this?” he demanded. Before Alsoomse could defend herself, another voice came from behind the door.

“Achilles, what is happening?” A large man about her age appeared. Alsoomse’s heart stopped for a moment. This man was like herself. Just from the color of his skin to the beading on his coat, she knew.

Connor himself faltered as he looked outside the doorway. While many natives had come to the Homestead town for trade, none had come all the way here to the manor. And certainly none of them appeared as remarkable as her. The woman was tall and slender, her long black hair wrapped in a white ribbon with silver earrings dangling from her lobes. Her white shirt was that of the colonials, although she wore a belt with triangular patterns beaded onto it. Strands of white beads were strung around her neck. She dressed warmly, blue leggings laced up her legs and a red and gold skirt around her waist. A hatchet was fastened to her waist, a thick blanket with more intricate designs draped over her shoulders. The beaded pattern on her moccasins was the last of what gave away her tribe. She was Shawnee.

“This woman has taken it upon herself to read others’ personal letters,” Achilles accused, handing Connor the shredded letter. The contents inside remained were battered as if it the letter had been read a dozen times.

“You would too if your brother’s dead body was in possession of it,” Alsoomse snapped. She would not play victim to lies.

Connor’s head shot up, eyebrows furrowed together. “Your brother?” he asked.

Alsoomse nodded. “Many knew him as Joseph, the son of war chief Benjamin of the Shawnee,” she muttered, looking down at her feet. She hadn’t uttered his name, Anglicized or no, since she had mourned over his body. Connor heaved a sigh in understanding.

“I am sorry,” he murmured sympathetically.

Alsoomse was tired of condolences. “I want to know why he had that letter,” she demanded, eyes like fire. Connor and Achilles both finally noticed the color for the first time. It was like looking into the eyes of a hawk.

Achilles shook his head. “I’m afraid such things cannot be known to you,” he told her firmly. “However, I appreciate you delivering the letter to us. Good day.” He moved to shut the door, but Alsoomse’s foot had slammed itself between the door and the post.

“I did not come all the way here from the Kentucky territory to _deliver_ you a letter,” she hissed, a firm arm shoving the door back open. “My brother is dead and I want to know why. I allowed him his secrets in life but I will not tolerate them in death. You will tell me why my brother was in possession of a letter addressed to you right now.”

Connor pulled Achilles back, slipping the letter into the lapel of his coat. “You said your name was Alsoomse?” he inquired, trying to keep the situation under control. Even in his feeble state it seemed Achilles was about to rise up in arms against the Shawnee woman.

Alsoomse huffed and nodded. “Yes,” she confirmed, her jaw set tightly.

“Come inside. It is cold and we have much to discuss.”

Achilles turned sharply at his apprentice. “You know that I cannot allow this,” he whispered. Connor shook his head.

“She is involved now,” was what he insisted before leading Alsoomse inside and shutting the door. Connor recalled being in a similar situation a handful of years ago. He was still a boy then, chasing after something he didn’t understand. While this woman was here for completely different reasons he felt duty bound to ensure she didn’t walk away with unanswered questions.

Achilles grumbled something under his breath as he grumpily hobbled toward the kitchen. Alsoomse had taken off the blanket she had wrapped around her, which Connor took and draped over a chair near the fire to warm it up for her. He pulled the remaining chairs over to the fire as well, watching with intrigue as the Shawnee sat before him. Once everyone had settled, Alsoomse spoke up again. “What do you know about my brother?” she demanded.

Connor gave Achilles one final glance before answering. “He was a recruit.”

“A recruit for what?”

There was a brief pause that felt like it extended on for an eternity. “An Assassin.”

“A what?” Alsoomse repeated. The concept sounded so odd. An assassin was a cold-hearted killer, but the way the man had said it made it sound like so much more.

“Connor, she doesn’t need to know,” Achilles tried to push in, but he was ignored.

“An Assassin,” Connor repeated. The old man huffed and leaned back in his chair. It was like Connor had completely forgotten about the creed to remain in the shadows. With a deep breath the young man began his tale, telling Alsoomse everything he could remember: the Assassins and Templars, the Ones Who Came Before, the Pieces of Eden, everything. She would probably end up thinking he was absolutely crazy but he could at least go to sleep tonight knowing that he had done his best to help her find closure for her brother’s death.

So much of it sounded like the stuff out of tall tales parents told their children and yet Alsoomse sat quietly, never interrupting. Only listening. She drunk in the information, utterly desperate to know what her brother had been involved with. Achilles didn’t interrupt his protégé any further. There were two stubborn young adults in his house now and he didn’t have the energy to fight either of them on this matter. He had to admit it, Connor didn’t forget a single detail of what he had been taught. Everything the young man ever studied seemed to be retained completely in his memory. At least the boy was using his brain to some degree even if it wasn’t doing the wise thing and abandoning this fool’s errand of his.

Alsoomse sat still after Connor had finished, staring into the fire thoughtfully. Everything she was told sounded like complete madness. But she was running out of ideas. Why else would her brother have been so secretive? He would never aid the British or the French or anyone else who tried to seize their people’s lands. Perhaps he saw a window with these Assassins. What griped her was that it didn’t bring her any closer to who the killer was—except that he was possibly a Templar. It was utterly unhelpful. “All right…” she whispered, sitting up straight. Connor watched her, finding it impossible to discern what she was going to say next. Alsoomse remained stoic. “This all sounds like some wild fantasy, but I can tell that neither of you are the type for that. I believe you.”

Connor leaned back as well, eyebrows slightly furrowed together. Her calm was unnerving, but perhaps she was ready to believe anything so long as it meant avenging her brother. “So what will you do now?” he inquired.

“She should go home and forget,” Achilles hissed under his breath but neither listened to him.

“What else _can_ I do?” Alsoomse questioned back with a shrug. “I will have to retrace my brother’s footsteps, so to speak. I need to become like you. I need to become an Assassin.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Achilles growled louder. He hoisted himself up from his chair with aid from his walking stick. “I have allowed this for you, Connor, but I will not stand for it a second time. As for you,” he turned to Alsoomse and jabbed the cane in her direction, “go home. Leave my house and forget all about this.”

Alsoomse’s eyes narrowed and she shot up to her feet, towering over the older man’s hunched frame. “How dare you,” she hissed. “My brother is dead and I have found a way to get answers. I have found a way to avenge him. His killer is out there right now creating havoc and killing other innocent people and you dare deny me the right to end his life?”

“I have enough blood on my hands as it is. Bad enough I had one child knocking on my door chasing a fantasy let alone two. I agreed to train Connor but I will not train you!”

“Then I will.” The two had been so consumed in their row that they had completely forgotten that Connor was there. Alsoomse and Achilles turned away from each other to face him. He stood firm, shoulders back and jaw set. “Enough with this arguing. If you refuse to train her then I will do it myself. I am an Assassin now. Is it not our duty to rebuild the brotherhood?”

Achilles clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Fine. You’ve put all these ideas in her head so it’s only right you bear the price. Train her, then. Just don’t get _distracted_.”

“Distracted with what?”

“Oh, bah,” Achilles merely scoffed with a wave of his hand, limping off to go to bed. He was too old and too tired to argue any further.

Alsoomse grit her teeth. _What a stubborn man,_ she thought to herself _._ She turned toward the other native. “Why does he call you Connor?” Clearly that could not be his birth name. Or perhaps it was. It was hard to say in these times.

Connor gave a light shrug. “Achilles presumed it would be better for others to think I was Italian or Spanish,” he offered.

With a scoff, she replied, “I doubt you fool anyone.” Connor chuckled.

“No, perhaps not. Still, given the people I meet every day, it is easier for them.”

“They should call you by the name your people gave you,” Alsoomse insisted. “I will not change mine.”

“I figured you would not welcome the idea,” Connor agreed wryly. “If it matters to you so much, my name is Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton,” Alsoomse repeated slowly, tasting it on her tongue. “And your people?”

“Kanien'kehá:ka.” Connor deduced that since he already figured out where she came from, she ought to know his own roots.

“I knew you had to be from the Iroquois. All the local tribes I have come across around here have been from one of the Six Nations. There was also a man down the road from here that mentioned the Mohawk.” Alsoomse threw him a knowing smirk before turning in the direction of the front door. “My horse. I should get him in the stable,” she added, noting how cold it looked outside. Connor could see the concern etched into her features.

“Let me help you.”

Alsoomse did. She wrapped herself in her blanket and stepped outside with Connor behind her. The black stallion had been patiently waiting for her. He pawed his hoof against the ground when he saw his mistress. Alsoomse freed him from the post and led him to the stable. Connor admired the steed. He was black with a thick mane and tail of silky hair. He had no markings, making him an ideal nighttime horse.

Once inside the stable Alsoomse and Connor worked together to remove the tack. Alsoomse crooned to her steed as she groomed him, brushing away dirt and sweat from his flank. Connor filled the basins of an empty stall with feed and water before tossing in a fresh layer of hay on the ground. The other horses snorted, peaking over their stall doors in curiosity at their new neighbor.

“What brought you here, Ratonhnhaké:ton?” Alsoomse asked as she led her horse to his stall.

“It… it is not exactly a fond memory,” Connor evaded.

“When are they ever?” She patted her horse’s neck before leaving the stall, ensuring the lock was secured and in place. “You know my story. Is it not fair that I also learn yours?”

“Perhaps not, but I do not wish to share that part of my life with you. Perhaps one day, when we know each other better. After all, I only know part of your story, not the whole of it.” Connor sighed softly and beckoned Alsoomse to follow him. She did so, lengthening her strides a little to keep up with him.

“Fair enough,” she relented, “but one day you _will_ tell me.”

Connor fought back a chuckle. If anything, she was persistent. As they walked he couldn’t help but sneak a glance at her from the corner of his eye. He was curious about her. He knew what led her here, but what bred her? What was it that kept her back straight and head held high? Alsoomse’s eyes held a firm gaze, never flicking down to the floor in discomfort or bashfulness. She was a formidable creature, enduring days on the road in cold and snow to get here. Nothing had deterred her. If she kept up with this sort of attitude she would make a fine Assassin for certain.

They made it back inside the house, warming up by the kitchen fire that roared in the fireplace. Alsoomse wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the warmed brick, closing her eyes and leaning her head back. The journey had worn her thin. She was fatigued and hungry, thus began her search for food. “What do you have that I could make for a decent supper?” she asked Connor, digging through the cabinets to find a pan.

“Mainly meat,” Connor answered. “I can head to the smokehouse and bring in a hog for some bacon if you wish.”

“That will work,” Alsoomse agreed. “I will see what is in the kitchen while you do that.” Connor would normally have qualms about a stranger rummaging through the kitchen unsupervised, but she was now his recruit. A little leeway will ensure the bond of trust.

Alsoomse watched Connor retreat from the manor, then she began to rummage through the cabinets some more. There were plates, glasses, and silverware in one area and in another was a stash of different seasonings and other condiments. One jar was filled with honey. Perfect. She saw some pepper for seasoning as well as the likes of salt, thyme, ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon. A few others she didn’t recognize. There was a bottle of wine and another of brandy. For drinking or a recipe ingredient? Perhaps both.

Connor returned inside just then with a hunk of meat resting on his shoulder. He set it down with a thud on the table. “Have you found anything you wish to eat with this?” he asked as he went to get the butcher knife to cut up the pork.

“I was just figuring out what you had in your cabinets,” Alsoomse replied. “I did see some honey though. I met one trader who recommended honey glaze on meat dishes. I already tried it once with rabbit.” She opened the cabinet and pulled out the jar. “What I eat is so different from the colonists' diet. I do not know where to begin.”

Connor couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. He understood all too well. “I had much to learn myself,” he agreed. “My village… it is rather isolated from the rest of the world. We were never allowed out of the valley.”

Alsoomse’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Do your people ever trade with others?”

“Yes, but we do not leave the valley.”

“That would drive me mad. I would have ventured out whether anyone wanted me to or not. It seems breaking traditions has become a habit of mine.” She absentmindedly fondled the handle of the hatchet she still had attached to her belt. Connor eyed it thoughtfully before turning to the meat and chopping off what was unneeded for their meal.

“Your people allow women to be warriors,” he noted. Not an uncommon occurrence among the tribes. Alsoomse nodded.

“When I was a child my mother struggled to keep me from running off to where the men would train the boys in hunting and fighting. I would hide behind a tree or in the bushes, watching them. Finally I made a mistake and my father found me. I remember my parents arguing about what to do about it. My mother did not wish for both of her children to be in the face of danger, but my father pointed out that they could not keep me away. And so they compromised. My mother would teach me how to harvest and heal and raise children, my father to hunt and defend the people. Both taught me to be leader amongst our people, to serve them and our Creator.”

Connor listened with pure fascination. He’d met a small handful of women like her, women who broke the mold of tradition in their communities. Such women reminded him of what little he could remember of his mother. He’d listened to many stories about her growing up, but nothing intrigued him more than when she had fought to put an end to Edward Braddock and the slavers. Once, someone had let slip that that was when she had met his father, but after that no one spoke of him again. It only piqued Connor’s curiosity.

“Have you seen battle?” Connor wondered aloud.

Alsoomse nodded. “Of course,” she confirmed. Neither were aware they had stopped preparing dinner. “Just last year I was fighting for my people in the Ohio Valley. That bastard governor from Williamsburg had had the audacity to wage war on my people for defending our rights to our own hunting lands. These colonists keep pushing further and further west. One day we will have no land to hunt on at all.”

“That is why I sought out Achilles,” Connor mumbled, finally refocusing and cutting the meat into strips. “I saw how the outsiders came closer and closer to our land and it made me angry that we did nothing.”

“What happened?”

Connor sighed. “Do you remember when Achilles and I told you about the ancient civilization that came before us?”

“Of course. That is not something I would forget.”

“It would appear that my village was given a sacred duty to safeguard the land we were settled upon. Clan Mother had in her possession this object that I had never seen before. It was a clear sphere. When I held it in my hands, what I saw around me changed and a woman appeared before me. She… she had your eyes.”

Alsoomse blinked. Self-consciously she brushed back a strand of hair that wasn’t there. “What did this woman tell you?” she asked, avoiding Connor’s last statement.

“The threat I had predicted was indeed coming and I had to put a stop to it. ‘Premature access will destabilize the region’ were her specific words.”

“That is an odd way to put it.”

Connor chuckled and retrieved a plate to place the strips of pork on. “She comes from a different time. Perhaps that is simply how they spoke,” he mused. “Regardless, she told me to seek out the Assassin symbol. And so I have.”

Alsoomse took a pan and rubbed butter on it for frying. “How has it served you so far?” the Shawnee woman inquired.

“Well enough, I suppose.” Connor stalled, folding his arms across his chest. It was odd. Normally it took him far more to open up about himself, but there was something intriguing about the woman before him that made him do it. She hid her pain well, but he could sense it. She bore the same pain he did. Whatever the reason, this bonding exercise, as Achilles would surely call it, seemed to be working. They needed to understand each other. To trust each other.

“Fair enough,” Alsoomse replied, resting the pan over the fire to heat before purposefully placing the strips of raw pork on the pan. She crouched, resting on her ankles as she watched the food cook. Connor poked through the cabinet for the seasoning and a bit of chocolate. “How do you intend to train me?” She looked up at him, amber eyes shining gold in the firelight.

Connor set the items that he held in his arms onto the table. “I want to see what your limits are first,” he started carefully. “Your people are known as having the best warriors among the tribes—at the very least, the British think so. Should that be the case, there will only be specific abilities an assassin must possess that will require instruction.” The smell of the bacon wafted in the air, making both of their stomachs rumble. “You mentioned to me earlier that your father is war chief in your village.”

“He is.” Alsoomse flipped the strips of bacon to fry the other side.

“How does one become war chief amongst your people?”

“The warriors choose,” she informed him. “He must be brave and a skilled warrior, but he must also be wise. His priority must always be protecting the people. If the warriors feel their war chief is failing them, they may vote on a replacement.”

“Not something to be inherited.”

“No.”

The bacon finished frying and Alsoomse dished them up before digging through her pouch. She found some dried apple slices worth adding to the side, the chunks of chocolate Connor uncovered already sitting on the plates. Alsoomse also pulled out a small loaf of bread she purchased in Boston which was a wonderful finish to their small meal. With a little seasoning and honey on the bacon and apple, it was a decent enough meal. They ate silently, both deep in thought. Alsoomse would eye details surrounding her while Connor watched her intently, attempting to read her.

Most people would have accepted the death of a brother, mourned, and move on. But not Alsoomse. She ventured out far beyond her homeland in search of answers. Connor had to admit, he was impressed. Even though he himself had done the same thing it was not something he expected others to do. Even more so, he had much to learn about her. What were her strengths and weaknesses? Her aspirations? He would teach her what he could, learning from her as much as she would learn from him.

Certainly, it was a relief to have a new ally in this fight. More than likely she would stay for the long term, hopefully even after she found her brother’s murderer. There was a fire in Alsoomse’s eyes that match the shade of her hues. Such an eye color was something he had never seen before save for one other time. Juno. Perhaps it was pure coincidence, perhaps there was a connection hidden in plain view, but the likelihood of finding out was slim.

“You know, I hate to admit it, but the last thing I expected when knocking on that door was the likes of you and Achilles,” Alsoomse muttered after some time. Connor chuckled.

“I cannot blame you,” Connor mumbled. “After all, the likes of _you_ was not something I expected to knock on our door.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” the Shawnee huntress challenged.

“A Shawnee warrior,” the assassin responded tactfully. Alsoomse arched an eyebrow. “Your people are across the Appalachian Mountains. I am certain your journey was long and exhausting. If this was not important you would not be here.”

Alsoomse hummed as she chewed on her bread. This man was highly intelligent, his sharp mind picking up on hidden details. “When your brother’s bloodied body is laid at your feet with a strange letter in his pocket, nothing else matters,” she muttered sadly. Connor understood all too well. Ever since his own mother’s murder it has consumed him. Becoming an assassin served as an outlet to not only protect his people but to deliver justice to her murderer, Charles Lee.

“You may not trust me now, but trust me on this: we will find who did that to him and then you will avenge your brother,” Connor promised firmly. Alsoomse’s mouth quirked up appreciatively.

“Thank you, Ratonhnhaké:ton,” she murmured, looking down at her plate. “It… is a relief to know I have an ally in this fight.”

“You do,” Connor confirmed confidently. “I promise, we are in this together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaay, so we've officially met Connor and Achilles. *throws confetti* Allie gets a wee bit angry, but we can't exactly blame her.  
> Connor takes his first steps as a future Mentor of the Brotherhood. Obviously he has a connection with Alsoomse. I want them to have a strong bond long before romance comes into play ("don't get distracted" lmao sure Achilles).  
> As for Allie's eye color, I still don't exactly understand why Ubisoft designed her to have yellow eyes. The only other characters depicted that way are obviously Juno, Minerva, and Jupiter. Naturally, it bugs me nearly six years later. I'm assuming it's merely a coincidence but unfortunately my brain has decided to draw its own conclusions. I haven't honed any details out yet though.  
> P.S. The war Alsoomse speaks of being in battle is Lord Dunmore's War, which happened the year prior to when this fic starts.  
> Just a heads up, I'm going away on vacation for a few weeks, so I won't be posting the next chapter until probably the 29th. I know that's a looong way off and it's super early in the game to be doing this, but oh well. Things happen. lol  
> Anyways, thank you for reading and please feel free to leave a comment!


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back!  
> I may be a weeeee bit late with my return to this fic but I wasn't quite in the right place to write for AC3 and I didn't want to force it.  
> Anyways, thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Alsoomse woke with the dawn, brushing her hair out of her face as she sat up. Connor had offered the spare bedroom for her use, which she was grateful for. The huntress fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. The bed was extremely comfortable and the room was spacious, being just down the hall from Connor’s. Achilles was downstairs, his old bones too feeble to climb up and down the staircase all day long.

Sunbeams stretched inside from the horizon. Alsoomse rose and looked out the window, admiring the beautiful landscape. The property was expansive and she was curious to see what else was around. First, of course, she would have to eat and tend to her horse, and then most likely Connor would wish to start her training. She would surely have the free time to explore later.

With a sigh Alsoomse turned away from the window to get dressed. She laid out her garments on the bed. With practiced hands she wrapped the skirt around her waist and tied it before pulling up her leggings. The wool kept her warm, even in this weather. Her winter moccasins were lined with fur on the inside, which instantly warmed her toes. With Alsoomse’s shift already donned the only thing left to do was put on her weapons belt and her necklace of white beads.

On the dresser was a handheld mirror. Alsoomse picked it up and slowly brushed out her black hair. It seems she didn’t move much during the night as the strands barely had any tangles. Once done with that she carefully wrapped her hair with a white ribbon, fastening it tightly at the end. She armed herself and looped her earrings in her ears before stepping into the hallway.

When she made it downstairs, Connor and Achilles were already up discussing one thing or another in the front room. Alsoomse crossed the threshold, causing the two men to turn.

“Good morning, Alsoomse,” Connor greeted with a nod.

“Hello, Ratonhnhaké:ton,” she responded in turn, “hello, Achilles.”

“Morning.” Achilles gave her a curt nod of his own.

“Have either of you eaten yet?” the Shawnee inquired.

“Not yet,” Connor told her. “We waited for you.”

Alsoomse leaned against the table with a frown. “I hope I did not take too long,” she murmured in concern.

Connor shook his head. “No, of course not. We have only just gotten up ourselves.”

“Well, I can prepare breakfast,” she offered.

“That would be appreciated,” Achilles mused. He was trying to warm up to her presence. He had no desire for more conflict in this house if he could help it.

With a nod Alsoomse stalked off toward the kitchen, making quick work of what was in the storage room. “Anything to drink?” she called.

“We have hot chocolate and coffee,” Connor informed her loudly. “Achilles only has coffee but I do not mind either one.”

Alsoomse figured to serve the hot drinks first, so she grabbed the proper packages and the kettle. As she turned back toward the kitchen she saw Connor standing in the doorway, already pulling out the chocolate pot. Neither said anything, merely working to make a meal together as they did last night. Achilles hummed softly to himself, watching the pair shrewdly.

“I did not see any tea in there,” Alsoomse mused to Connor, nodding to the storage room.

“We… consider ourselves Patriots,” Connor started, Achilles nodding in agreement. “So we do not purchase tea.”

“Hmm, just as well. I prefer coffee anyway.”

“Good, some sanity,” Achilles called from his seat, making Alsoomse chuckle.

“Is he always like that?” she whispered to Connor.

“For the most part, yes,” Connor confirmed. “Trust me, he has a softer side. You just have to earn it first.”

Alsoomse cocked an eyebrow but said nothing, merely gazing briefly at the old man as she set the water over the fire to boil. Connor took to cutting slices of bread for toast. After they ate he would test his new recruit to see what her limitations were before teaching her and honing her skills.

All three were simple people so their breakfast was just as plain. While Achilles had his coffee, Alsoomse accepted Connor’s offer to try hot chocolate. She was instantly in love. The drink was not as bitter as coffee, sweetened by the likes of nutmeg and cinnamon. It required no sugar or cream like coffee did. It tasted exactly like the chocolate they had eaten with dinner last night, but the Shawnee woman found that she loved it even more hot and liquefied.

No one spoke. There was no need. Hunger overtook the need of conversation. In any case, everyone was analyzing each other. Achilles still felt uneasy about Alsoomse’s arrival while she was attempting to discern the type of men that were around her. Alsoomse finished her food first, washing her dishes before stepping outside into the cold. She shivered slightly, unused to how much colder it was here than back home.

With her gone, Achilles and Connor were free to speak freely. “What have you determined about her?” Achilles asked his younger companion.

“She is curious,” Connor started thoughtfully, “but she does not pry. Confident, a little playful, hardworking. She has a strong bond with her horse. She seems to be a quick learner with a sharp mind as well.”

“Is she trustworthy?”

Connor hummed. “I think so, but perhaps it is too soon to say so for certain,” he replied. “We begin training today so I will have more to tell you soon enough.”

Achilled frowned. “Like I said before, don’t get distracted,” he warned him.

“By what?” Connor asked again. “Because she is a woman you think she will addle my mind? Surely you know me better than that, Achilles. Besides, I have more important things to be worried about than chasing women.”

“Good.”

Connor did his best not to roll his eyes as he stood up to wash his own dishes. Alsoomse is a beautiful woman—that much is true—but Connor wasn’t foolish nor shallow. It would take far more than beauty to capture his attention. In any case, that wasn’t why she had come here or why he was training her.

As he stepped outside Connor looked around but didn’t see his newest guest. Alsoomse had left tracks in the snow, however, so he followed them. They led to the large tree just across the road in front of the house. He climbed up and initiated his second sight. He found a shadow and went after it. It seemed Alsoomse had taken to investigating her new surroundings from up above. Soon he caught up to her.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked from behind her.

Alsoomse did not turn. “It is beautiful,” she mused quietly. “Is it this beautiful in summer?”

“I like to think even more so.” He made another leap and landed on the branch she was perched on, jostling her slightly. “I am glad to see you are already adept with trees,” he continued.

“Of course,” Alsoomse replied, offering him a smile. “We have many trees where I come from. I climb them all the time.”

Connor watched her. “Do you miss it?”

“Do you miss your own home?” she asked in return.

Connor nodded. “I visit, but….”

“It is never quite the same,” she offered.

“Yes.”

 

Alsoomse nodded in understanding. She had been away from her family and village before, but this was different. She had no idea when she would return. She had no idea if she ever could. Still, she was seeking answers and she would find out who her brother’s killer was and end him. And if becoming an assassin would help her achieve those goals, then so be it.

After a moment Alsoomse straightened and easily swung down to the snow ground. She looked up to where Connor was still crouched. “So are we going to train now or shall I leave you up there?” she called. Connor fought back a chuckle as she swung down after her.

“We have no time to lose. Come with me,” he said. He beckoned and she followed.

They went at it all day. Connor tested her endurance first before pushing the limits of her strength. Sometimes he would throw a curveball at Alsoomse only to see her adapt almost as rapidly. He had to admit, she exceeded his expectations. Her father had trained her well. After a brief midday meal they continued where Connor learned her fighting style and she learned his.

Achilles watched them from the balcony. They barely talked, only when taunting each other or when Connor was offering instruction. Even the old man was impressed with the newcomer’s skill. The Shawnee were renowned among the British as some of the best and most fearsome of warriors among the indigenous population and that clearly showed with Alsoomse’s training. Perhaps she had a chance after all.

In the early afternoon Alsoomse and Connor scarfed down a quick lunch before heading out again. They were full of ceaseless energy, their bodies staying warm from constant movement. Alsoomse was sure she would collapse on her bed the second it was time for sleep. It had been a while since she was pushed beyond her limit like this and it was there where Connor found her first weakness. She would need limitless endurance in both body and mind if she was to survive as an assassin. Finally he had something to work with.

As the sun began to set, Alsoomse collapsed onto the snow, panting heavily. Connor hunched over, resting his hands on his knees. “Had enough?” he huffed out gruffly.

“For today,” Alsoomse answered softly, trying to catch her breath.

Connor swallowed thickly and straightened, offering her his hand. Alsoomse reached up and took it, feeling him pull her up with no aid on her part. _He is strong,_ she mused to herself. _I must be light as a feather to him._

“Come on, we should get inside and warm up.” Alsoomse nodded and followed him up the steps to the manor. Her stomach rumbled softly.

As Connor and Alsoomse stepped inside, the smell of food cooking made their stomachs cramp from hunger. During their last leg of today’s training, Achilles had taken the initiative to cook the evening meal for them all. He dished up the plates as the pair crossed into the kitchen. “If Connor has pushed you as hard as I pushed him, then you had better be starving,” he commented to Alsoomse.

“I only feel this hungry if I skip a meal,” she admitted, gratefully claiming her plate. “You taught him well.” Connor blushed slightly.

“I am glad you think so. He was a good student. Still is, in fact. Usually.” He and Alsoomse chuckled, Connor’s head ducking downward bashfully.

With Achilles finally warming up to Alsoomse, their conversation went along far more smoothly this time around. Achilles offered a little more history to Alsoomse and reminded her of the library upstairs. She made note to check out some of the books after she had finished eating. Connor had a book he was in the middle of reading so he would join her.

With stomachs full and dishes washed, Alsoomse and Connor headed upstairs while Achilles retired in his bedroom. Connor entered the library first, lighting all the candles for reading before tossing logs in the fireplace to heat up the room. Alsoomse approached the bookcases, running her long fingers over the spines of the numerous books on the shelves. Connor sat in a nearby chair and picked up his book from the table, opening to where he left off. Alsoomse selected a book titled _History and Timeline of the Assassin Brotherhood_. No author was listed, so she could only assume this tome was one of countless additions from over the centuries.

The Shawnee huntress curled up on the couch and opened her book to the first page. She had much to learn, much information to retain. She was particularly interested in the old ones, the ancient civilization that preceded hers. A nearby clock ticked quietly, its noise joined only by the crackling fire and the occasional turn of a page. Alsoomse found herself nodding off, trying her best to stay awake. Before long, she had fallen asleep.

 

Connor closed his book, its bookmark in place for when he picked it up again. He looked over to see how his companion was holding up. Alsoomse was slumped against one of the cushions to the couch, the book in her hand in danger of falling to the floor. He frowned. Perhaps she would be more comfortable in her own bed, but he had no desire to presume himself.

Quietly he stood up and pulled the book out of Alsoomse’s hand, marking her place and setting it on the table next to his own tome. Long strides navigated to her room where he found the thick blanket that she had brought with her. Connor returned to the library and carefully draped it over Alsoomse, grabbing the cushion at her feet and gingerly sliding it under her head.

Her skin held a rich glow in the firelight and Connor couldn’t help but take this moment to stare. Her hands were rough from hard labor, however her fingers were long and delicate. Thick black hair was silky like a raven’s feather, the strands held securely by that ribbon she wrapped around them. There were a few wild loose ends however, and Connor resisted the urge to brush them away from her face.

Alsoomse’s features were feminine but strong, a hard-set jaw coupled with a full mouth and long lashes. Her cheekbones were evident but not harsh and the bridge of her nose was straight. Her skin tone was darker than his but fairer than some of his relatives. Connor even admired her jewelry. The silver of her earrings were well polished, but his true fascination laid with the strands of white beads draped around her neck. He was certain they were of some kind of significance for her, whatever that may be. She was clearly not a vain woman else she would have donned herself further.

With a quiet grunt Connor shook his head and stood up. _Do not get distracted,_ he repeated to himself what Achilles had told him. Since Alsoomse was peacefully asleep, he added a few more logs to the fireplace before retreating to his own bedchamber for some much-needed sleep. In the morning he would introduce her to some of those who lived in the Homestead village.

 

Alsoomse groaned softly as she stretched her limbs and up. She could feel her aching muscles from yesterday’s strenuous activities. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t in her bedroom. Hell, she wasn’t even in a bed. With a start she realized that she must’ve fallen asleep while reading last night. Connor had been kind enough to place her blanket on her to stay warm during the night.

In one fluid motion she stood up and picked up her blanket, folding it as she walked to her room and dropping it on the bed. Alsoomse quickly straightened out her clothing and undid her hair to brush it. As the brush combed through the strands a knock resounded on her door. Alsoomse turned and saw Connor stand in the doorway. “Yes?” she inquired.

“Breakfast is ready,” he informed her, looking briefly at her loose hair before his gaze returned to her face. “Once we have eaten I want you to meet the other villagers. They are good friends and you should get to know them while you are staying with us.”

“I will be down in a minute.” Connor nodded and retreated. Once Alsoomse redid her hair she walked downstairs and into the kitchen. Her food was waiting for her on the table which she promptly grabbed and scarfed down in minutes. She was itching to get outside again. Connor blinked at how quickly she had finished the meal but he supposed he could relate to it. He had lost count of how many times Achilles berated him for not eating slower.

Connor quickly shoveled down his own food in order to catch up with her, washing his plate and setting it on top of hers before bolting outside. Alsoomse’s tracks led to the trees again. Connor couldn’t help but smile. She was like him in that way. The trees were a sanctuary.

It seemed Alsoomse had bolted further than he expected. Connor brushed through the trees until he was near the cliff side. Alsoomse was standing on the edge, arms folded over her chest as she stared out on the water. Connor landed on the ground beside her, saying nothing. He merely wondered what she was thinking. With a sigh she finally opened her mouth.

“So, these friends of yours….”

“We can start there if you wish.” Connor nodded down to where the _Aquila_ was ported. “My first mate will be down there.”

Alsoomse cocked her head. “You sail?”

Connor smiled. “Yes,” he confirmed. “It is something I have discovered to be a bit of a passion of mine.”

“Show me.”

Alsoomse was intrigued so she followed him down the winding trail down to the port. Connor waved at his first mate, who waved back. The older man cocked an eyebrow at the woman training behind his captain.

“Cap’n!” he called, grasping Connor’s hand warmly. “Who’s the lass?”

“Mr. Faulkner, this is Alsoomse. She is my newest recruit,” Connor introduced. “Alsoomse, this is Robert Faulkner. He is part of the Brotherhood and my first mate. He taught me everything I know about sailing.”

Alsoomse took a quick analyzing glance at Faulkner. He had a pipe in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other, however he seemed to clean up nicely. “A pleasure,” she finally said, extending her hand. Faulkner stuck the end of his pipe into his mouth and took her hand, shaking it.

“The pleasure’s mine, Miss Alsoomse. Eh, did I say that right?”

“Yes,” Alsoomse confirmed with a slight smile. “So how long have you and Ratonhnhaké:ton sailed together?”

“He was a boy when we met. Well, he’s still a boy to me,” Faulkner informed her with a chuckle. “He was thirteen, but by God he didn’t look it. And now look at ya. You’ll be twenty in a few short months. You’re a man now. I bet girls stare at ya all the time.”

Connor ducked his head, his cheeks coloring red. In an attempt to redirect attention from him, Alsoomse offered, “I have only just turned seventeen myself.” He gave her a quick, grateful smile.

“Really?” Faulkner blinked a couple times. “I thought you were older! You’re certainly the tallest woman I’ve ever seen. You’re almost six feet tall, I’ll bet you.”

“Everyone in my family is tall. Even my mother.”

“Huh! And what about your eyes? Does that run in the family too?”

It was Alsoomse’s turn to duck her head. She hated it whenever strangers felt the need to mention the color of her eyes. Connor stepped in. “Mr. Faulkner, perhaps we should save personal questions for another day. I wish to take Alsoomse aboard the _Aquila_.”

“A woman on the _Aquila_? That’s bad luck, that is!”

“A woman brings no more bad luck to a ship than a man,” Connor hissed between his teeth. He had seen how quickly Alsoomse’s back had stiffened, yellow eyes narrowed in anger. “And if she wishes to join us on the high seas, I will allow it.”

Faulkner huffed but took a step back when he saw the fire of Alsoomse’s presence. “Fine,” he grumbled, unnerved. “But if that ship sinks on her next voyage, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“A ship sinks from a storm. Not a woman’s touch,” Alsoomse growled out. Before she could say more Connor had gently taken her arm and pulled her away.

As they approached the boarding plank Connor whispered, “Board with your right foot first. The last thing I need is Faulkner berating me about bad luck again.” Alsoomse huffed but did as she was told, placing her right foot on the plank as the climbed up. Connor let go of her arm. It was impossible to tell just by looking at her but he felt the strength in her firm muscle. “I am sorry you had to hear that. Sailors have the most ridiculous superstitions.”

“Do all sailors consider women to be bad luck or is your first mate a special case?” Alsoomse folded her arms across her chest, back still stiff.

“I am certain my entire crew believes in that superstition,” Connor confirmed.

“It is no wonder why colonial women are so miserable…” Alsoomse mused to herself. Connor chuckled lightly.

If it makes you feel any better, black cats are considered bad luck too,” he offered half-heartedly.

“ _Is_ that supposed to make me feel better?” Alsoomse teased, managing a grin.

“No.” Connor smirked back before extending his arm. “Follow me. I will show you around.” He showed her around the top deck, explaining everything from the crow’s nest—which they both climbed—to the wheel. Alsoomse was fascinated, almost more by Connor’s affection for a ship than the strappings of it. She followed him into the captain’s cabin. “I sleep there,” Connor said, pointing to a comfortable bed, “and here is my desk. I keep all my instruments and maps in the drawers.”

Alsoomse poked around, Connor watching on with fascination of his own. Even in here she was like a hunter stalking prey, analyzing every detail and memorizing them all. On the walls were more maps, however there were several decorations that pointed to his roots. On the floor was a large bear hide. She knelt beside it and ran her hand over the soft fur. “What do you like about sailing?” she asked him. Connor knelt in front of her and rested his own hand on the animal skin.

“It is… liberating,” Connor informed her thoughtfully. “There are no manmade laws at sea. Only the elements and your crew for miles. We depend on each other for survivals. We are brothers. And the places we get to see…. As a child, I could never have imagined such wonders.” His face beamed as he spoke, eyes lit up in delight. Alsoomse was amazed at how something so simple brought him so much joy.

“The next time you sail, will I be coming with you?” she wondered.

“If you wish,” Connor agreed, “and if you find you have no taste for it, I will not force you to. I may request for your aid should the need arise.”

Alsoomse nodded. “I would like that. I have never been to sea.”

“The first few days may be unpleasant,” he warned. “You may feel off balanced and you could fall ill from the motion sickness.”

“There are worse things.” Carefully Alsoomse turned her head and pointed to a small collection of markings just underneath her right cheekbone. “I had smallpox when I was a very young girl.”

Connor gingerly reached up his hands, and when she didn’t pull away he gently took hold of her jaw to get a closer look. He had seen the marks but never thought to what they were. “Was it painful?”

Alsoomse shrugged as Connor released her. “I honestly do not remember. I was too young to. Thank the Great Spirit it was only a minor case, however. The scars could have been much worse.” Connor offered a small prayer of gratitude in Mohawk under his breath. Someone as unique as her should never be swept away prematurely.

“How about we take our minds off this dark matter and visit some of the villagers now?” Connor stood and offered her his hand. Alsoomse looked up at him. He was such a marvel. He was a gentle giant, physically large and terrifying when really he had a warm heart and a kind soul. She took his hand and stood.

Connor released their hands and led the way off the ship, waving farewell to his first mate before he challenged her to a race. Alsoomse laughed in a carefree manner. It was hard to say who was faster. One would catch up to the other and get ahead before the cycle began again. As they ran, Connor saw a burning fire with food cooking and a cluster of his neighbors. He called out to Alsoomse and they slowed up to a walk, both still beaming from the rush of the race.

As they got closer Connor spied two strangers. The woman was the one cooking over the fire and the man was serving ale or beer from their wagon, which was filled with large barrels. The man noticed the native pair first and greeted, “Hello, sir. Afternoon, ma’am! Would either of you like a draught of ale or some bread and cheese?”

Connor raised his hand and shook it, politely rejecting the offer while Alsoomse shook her own head. “Connor!” another gentleman called, not yet noticing Alsoomse. “This man is Oliver and that is Corinne. Great people! Ollie! This is Connor, the man I was talking about. The _lord_ of the manor!” He faltered slightly as he saw the Shawnee woman standing behind the assassin.

Oliver spoke hurriedly, “We were passing through is all and met some of your townsfolk. They were thirsty and we had some barrels in the back and—”

“I am no lord and these are my friends, not my townsfolk,” Connor insisted assuredly. He beckoned Alsoomse forward. “This is Alsoomse of the Shawnee. She only just arrived the other day and is thus staying at the manor.”

“Hello, Alsoomse,” Oliver greeted. Alsoomse offered a warm smile.

“Hello sir,” she greeted. “What brings you to the road with a cart full of spirits for sale?”

Oliver sighed lightly. “We _were_ innkeepers until the king took our inn for some military such-and-such and left us out on our round parts,” he explained in exasperation.

“Hey! You should settle here! We could use an inn,” another man perhaps a little older than Connor interjected loudly, his ale clearly having its effect on him already.

“Good idea!” a woman next to him cheered, slapping him on the back excitedly. Alsoomse’s eyebrows shot up. This was the first time she met a woman who wore trousers, not to mention chugging down a pint of ale herself.

“We would,” Oliver continued, “but without an inn itself we don’t have much choice and building one isn’t cheap.”

Connor hummed thoughtfully. “We certainly have a need for something of the sort,” he uttered. “I will speak with my friends at the mill and see what we can do about building ourselves one. If it can be arranged, would you consider ending your search here?” His tone was soft and friendly. It made Alsoomse wonder how many times he had offered a place here to the people around them.

“Of course, Ollie!” Corinne exclaimed happily. “We’ll have an inn again!” The older couple embraced joyously and Alsoomse couldn’t help but smile. Connor’s kindness seemed to add a bit of magic wherever he went.

The two men shook hands to seal the deal. “I will go to the mill now; it should only take a few minutes,” Connor told Alsoomse. “If you wish, you may stay here and speak with everyone here and get to know them.”

Alsoomse nodded. “I will stay,” she decided. Connor grinned and quickly strode off, his heavy steps crunching the thin layer of snow beneath his feet. It seemed the moment he left everyone had turned to look at her. She waved awkwardly. “Hello.”

“I’ve never seen you before,” the man with the funny accent said, standing up. He was slightly off-balanced. “You can call me Norris.” He extended his hand, which she took and shook.

“I am Alsoomse,” she replied back. “I only arrived the other night. I… came for Ratonhnhaké:ton’s help.” Alsoomse didn’t know how much these villagers knew about Connor’s work and she wasn’t about to bring it up now, especially not in front of strangers.

“Connor’s good at that,” the young woman confirmed, standing up. “I’m Myriam. It’s good to see a woman my age now.”

Alsoomse smirked. “I have never met a colonial woman like you before,” she stated. “What is it that you do?”

“I hunt,” Myriam stated simply. “I lost my mother at a young age and my father…. Well, I had no desire to go into a convent or brothel, so I took to the frontier.” Alsoomse’s eyes brightened a little.

“I hunt as well,” she informed her. “Ever since I was a child, my father taught me. If you ever need a hunting partner do not hesitate to ask.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that. Connor’s a great hunter too, but I’m sure you’ll find that out for yourself soon enough.”

Alsoomse smiled. If Connor was an assassin, he would have to be a good hunter. “He will most likely take me hunting in the next day or two. We need fresh meat until the earth thaws and I can begin collecting roots and berries,” she voiced.

“Hey, miss Alsoomse.” She turned to the man who first spoke when she and Connor arrived at the little camp. “Name’s Godfrey.” He extended his hand for her to shake.

“I remember you from the road,” Alsoomse recalled, taking his hand. “Who was the other man with you?”

“He’s called Terry. Kid’s got a bit of a temper but a good lad. We cut lumber for a living,” he told her. “We’ll be more than happy to cut the wood needed for the new inn.” Oliver and Corinne could be see beaming in Alsoomse’s peripheral vision.

“I agree with Ratonhnhaké:ton, an inn will be of good use here. He brought me to the Homestead’s port earlier, so I am certain you receive many visitors.”

“Oh yeah, plenty. Ollie and Corinne’ll have plenty of business.”

Just then, Connor returned with yet another man trailing behind him. “Oliver, Crinne,” he greeted, “this is Lance, our resident carpenter. He will be working with Terry and Godfrey on building the inn.” Lance and Oliver shook hands. Connor touched Lance on the shoulder and led him over to where the women were chatting. “Lance, this is Alsoomse. She and I will be working together from now on.”

“Hello to you, Alsoomse. It seems Connor has high praise for you.”

Alsoomse glanced at her mentor. “Does he?” she inquired, quirking an eyebrow. “The feeling is mutual.” Connor beamed.

Lance chuckled. “I’m sure he’s glad to have someone like him around. I can’t claim to know a lick about you natives or your culture.”

“Well, we come from two very different tribes,” Alsoomse started. “We are as similar as the English are from the Spanish.”

“Ah, I see.” Lance nodded.

“In any case, our tribes have a long history of being enemies,” Connor added. “We were on different sides of the war between France and England some years ago. My people supported the English and the Shawnee supported the French.”

Lance looked between them in fascination. “And you two get along?”

Alsoomse fought back a laugh. “Individuals do not necessarily have to be the embodiment of an entire tribe. If that were the case, Norris would not be welcome here.”

Connor turned back to Oliver and Corinne, pulling out from his purse a bag loaded with coins. “I spoke with Lance and Terry, and here are the funds needed to build an inn. This should suffice. If you need any more for other needs with the inn, feel free to ask.” He handed Oliver the purse of coins. With business booming on the Homestead, he had more than enough money to be able to financially help his neighbors.

“Thank you!” Oliver exclaimed, gleefully taking the purse. “You won’t regret this Connor, we promise!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Allie meets some new folks and it (mostly) goes well. lol As you can see here I'll be including scenes from homestead and other side missions. Also, Connor's getting distracted. :)))))  
> I'm still doing every other Friday now that I'm back home and back in the game of writing regularly. Thank you for your patience and please leave a comment down below! ^.^


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> I had a bit of a rough week, so returning to these two was such a pleasant change of pace. I just love them so much.  
> First chapter that's set within the main game (not including side and Homestead missions) so this chapter was a breeze to write. haha Not so much next chapter though. *falls over*  
> Anyways, please enjoy! :D

First thaw came, and with it, Alsoomse’s improvements. Connor taught her new skills, such as eavesdropping, tailing, and sharpshooting. He added variety to her fighting style, making her adapt to everything he threw at her. She was a fast learner. She followed his instruction to the finest details. Connor was impressed. When they hunted, it was almost always together, and it was then Connor learned she could shoot a rabbit solidly in the eye from fifty paces.

Achilles had finally warmed up to Alsoomse and the Homesteaders had welcomed her with open arms. She spent much of her free time with either Connor or Myriam, the two women bonding over their similar natures and their desire to break from the mold. She spent time with the other women as well, learning from them in ways Connor could not.

Connor finally showed her the secret basement, informing her of their targets. Johnson was already dead, but they still had much work to do. Alsoomse was slightly annoyed that she could find nothing on her brother’s killer, but she remembered it would take much longer than a single month to find any information on him—if she would at all. Connor understood her pain. She had lost someone most beloved to her at the hands of a Templar.

Alsoomse had taken up the mantel of making meals for Connor and Achilles, which was a relief to them both. She was far better skilled with food than either of them. The domestic skills her mother had taught her proved to be useful. She was able to patch up worn clothing long neglected and had the manor possessed a field for crops she would have begun tending to that as well.

Alsoomse and Connor headed downstairs now after doing some studies in the library. They found Achilles standing in the dining room, staring at an empty space above the fireplace. Connor looked at his mentor with curious eyes, who turned and faced the pair.

“Connor, Alsoomse, come with me downstairs,” Achilles requested, hobbling along on his cane as he walked past them.

“Should I search for something to fill that space?” Connor offered as he followed, indicating to the empty wall above the fireplace. Alsoomse glanced over her shoulder, noticing how there seemed to be an outline of a painting that once hung there.

“No rush,” Achilles assured him. “Eventually the right piece will present itself.”

“As you wish.” Connor and Alsoomse glanced at each other. They could tell that there was more to that empty space than what Achilles was telling them, but they knew better than to pry.

Achilles turned to the candle holder on the wall, pulling it down. The wall to his right clicked and opened. “There’s a chest in a cave on the edge of the property, could you two retrieve it for me? I would go myself but these old bones prevent me from getting to it,” he continued as he pushed open the hidden door fully and stepped through. Connor and Alsoomse were close behind him. Connor respectfully let Alsoomse through first. As the trio walked down the steps, Achilles continued, “Take Norris with you; the cave entrance is blocked with heavy stone and will need to be cleared one way or another.”

“It must be important for it to be hidden in such an extensive manner,” Alsoomse mused, eyebrows furrowed together.

“Yes, it _is_ important,” Achilles confirmed. “I will explain everything when you return, but for now please go and do as I ask.”

“Very well.” Alsoomse touched Connor on the shoulder and beckoned him to follow her. The pair left Achilles alone, stepping outside. Alsoomse breathed in the fresh air. With the temperature beginning to warm she was far more relaxed. The Shawnee woman had finally made herself at home over the past month and Connor found himself to be a constant companion. In their free time they often would teach each other their mother languages. Connor felt much freedom around her, as no one else could understand his sort of upbringing. She was a kindred spirit.

“Norris will most likely be at his mine,” Connor informed Alsoomse.

“Lead the way then,” Alsoomse replied in agreement. As they often did, they raced each other all the way to the mine. This time, the Shawnee beat the Mohawk. They slowed at the entrance, walking all the way to the back of the mine where Norris was busy hacking away at the wall of the mine. “Norris!” Alsoomse called, causing the Frenchman to stop his work.

“Ah, hello Alsoomse!” he greeted, resting his axe on the ground. “What brings you two here today?”

“Norris,” Connor started, “we are going to fetch something for the old man and he told us there might be some stone that requires clearing.”

“Yah?” Norris hummed. “I will bring my _explosifs_.” He turned away from the pair and hoisted up a large barrel. Connor would’ve offered help but he was well aware that his friend was more than capable to carry it himself. Norris led the way out of the mine with Connor and Alsoomse close behind. The walk wouldn’t be far, mercifully for Norris’ arms. “Myriam is interesting….” He mused.

“Certainly not your typical colonial woman,” Connor agreed. “A deadly shot.”

“I like her,” Alsoomse replied with a nod. “It is pleasant to have a woman similar to myself to commune with.”

“Two skilled huntresses,” Connor uttered with a small grin.

“She brought down that cougar!” Norris exclaimed.

“What cougar?” Alsoomse inquired in confusion.

“A little while before you arrived, Myriam and I hunted down a white cougar,” Connor explained. “He was a large cat who had run inside Norris’ mine. I had to flush him out and Myriam killed him with a single shot from her musket.” Alsoomse’s throat thrummed in understanding.

“She is strong. Capable,” Norris continued eagerly as they began to cross the river. “She has no husband?” Alsoomse’s eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

“Not that I am aware of,” Connor responded.

“No,” Alsoomse confirmed. “Why do you ask, Norris?”

Norris gave a small shrug. “I never met a woman like her before—other than you, of course,” he told her. “I would like to know her better.”

“You should speak to her then,” Connor recommended, stomping through the flow of the river’s current. The water was still chilly and Alsoomse was grateful for her warm wool leggings. The water was high this morning due to the melted snow running down from the mountains.

“I might try.” Connor took a large step to reach the little hill of dry land in the middle of the river, his movements sloshing the water high. “Hey! Don’t splash! Don’t want to get the powder wet,” Norris reprimanded the assassin, who had stalled to help Alsoomse pull out of the water. Connor grumbled something equally reprimanding in Mohawk, causing Alsoomse to force back laughter. “Do you think she likes French men?”

Alsoomse had a gut feeling that Norris held a romantic interest in her fellow huntress. “I am no mind reader,” she responded as they finally reached the other side of the river. “I don't see why she would not though.”

The trio walked a handful more paces before the wall of stone came to sight. There was no way Connor and Alsoomse could get through there on their own. “I see why Achilles encouraged us to enlist your services,” Connor said slightly aghast.

“ _Pas de problème_ ,” Norris assured Connor, setting down the barrel full of explosives. “We blow it up. Be my guest.” Connor nodded. He pulled out his pistol, which was already loaded, and aimed at the barrel. “Duck and cover!” Norris yelled as he dove behind a boulder. Alsoomse crouched in the tall grass and covered her head just as Connor took his shot. The earth shook and her ears rang from the loud noise. “Ha! That’s a nice one!”

“Thank you,” Connor replied, tucking away his pistol.

“ _Bienvenue_ ,” was Norris’ response, joined with a chuckle, however he frowned at the cave entrance. “Doesn’t look safe in there. Be careful. I’ll be at the mine. What you’ve both said about Myriam is interesting….” With that Norris headed off, leaving the two young natives alone.

With Norris gone, Connor turned to Alsoomse and opened his mouth to speak, but then he clamped it shut again. Alsoomse stood rock solid, eyes glued to where the barrel once was. Her eyebrows were scrunched together slightly, mouth agape, and her eyes seemed… haunted. “Alsoomse,” he whispered, not wishing to startle her as he came close to her. After a couple seconds, her eyes flicked over to his.

“Yes?” Her voice was shaky.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently. “Would you like to stay outside?”

Slowly she nodded. Connor sighed softly and led her over to the boulder where she sat herself down. “I know I should—”

“You do not have to do anything,” Connor disagreed, tenderly resting his hand on her shoulder. She was stiff as a board. “You once told me that you have seen battle. I cannot pretend that I understand what that must have been like and I will not endanger you. I will return shortly; this should not take too long. Just wait here and gather your bearings.”

Alsoomse nodded again and stared down at her hands, saying nothing. Connor knew better than to push her, so he removed his hand from her shoulder and turned away, running into the tunnel. He made it down a ways, jumping when a pile collapsed down the shaft. Connor easily slid underneath, heart pounding. He took a left and splashed through more water, dodging the rocks as they fell from the ceiling. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the entire tunnel collapsed. He needed to hurry.

Connor took several more turns, swimming as fast as he could to reach his destination, using his second sight to know where to go. The tunnel seemed to go on forever before he finally reached dry ground again, climbing up to where he found a sort of room. The floor shook again. Connor watched in dismay as parts of the walkway collapsed from the quakes. He would have to climb.

The assassin was glad that Alsoomse didn’t enter with him. She was in no state to endure this sort of pressure, especially with so little ground to stand on. With ease Connor jumped his way across until at last he reached the other side. More of the stone walkway collapsed just as his feet barely lifted, but thankfully tree roots allowed him to still get across. He ran to the end where he found the chest Achilles spoke of. Connor pulled out his lock-picking tools and hastily picked the lock, standing again after succeeding and opening the lid.

Whatever was inside was big but flexible and Connor was able to fasten it to his body from his belt. The ground shook violently again. He needed to get out. As fast as his legs could carry him, Connor jumped, climbed, swam, and ran all the way back down the tunnel again, narrowly avoiding more falling rocks and collapsing stone ceilings. Just when he was beginning to wonder whether he was going to make it, he could make out the trees outside. With a thundering heart he made the last few steps, sliding out to safety just in time.

“That was close!” Alsoomse exclaimed, jumping to her feet. Her own heart had been hammering at the sight. Just a second too late and Connor would have been crushed. She raced to Connor and grabbed his torso, helping him straighten from his knees. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Connor assured her before loosening the parcel from his belt. “This is what Achilles wanted.”

“I wonder what it is….”

“We will soon find out.” Connor draped the parcel over his shoulder and led the way back to the manor, glancing over at Alsoomse from the corner of his eye. “Are you better now?” he asked.

Alsoomse nodded. “I am sorry, I… I never had that happen before,” she murmured.

“There is no need to apologize,” Connor assured her.

“Explosions put me on edge,” Alsoomse admitted. “I doubt that is a reassuring sign for a potential assassin.”

“If I may ask, when did you witness war before coming here?”

Alsoomse took a deep breath and released it. “Lord Dunmore,” she answered bitterly. “Last year he decided that my people and our neighbors the Mingo needed to be put in our place for defending our lands. War was declared on us and the colonists happily took up arms. We fought with all our might, but we are weak against all of their firearms. We lost.”

Connor’s jaw clenched firmly. He could feel the pain emanating from her. “I am sorry,” he murmured, barely paying attention to the fact that the manor was looming closer. “I wish I could have been able to help.”

“I doubt it would do much good. The outsiders are becoming too many. We cannot hope to keep our lands. They will push and push until our people have no more land left to stand on.”

Reassuringly, Connor took hold of her hand. “You are not alone,” he crooned. “I pray that one day our nations will be able to rise up and reclaim the lands of our ancestors.”

Alsoomse smiled and came close to his side. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Your friendship has helped me through much pain these last few weeks.”

Finally they arrived back at the manor, their hands letting go as Connor opened the front door. They made their way back downstairs to where Achilles was still waiting for them. “We have what you asked for,” Connor informed the old man. “But I must know: who put it there and for what purpose?”

“I did,” Achilles stated simply. “I put it somewhere I knew only I could reach, but that was a long time ago.”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton could have been killed,” Alsoomse added sternly. Surely Achilles knew just how dangerous it was for Connor to go inside that hideaway. “The collapsing tunnel nearly crushed him.”

 “Thankfully he has returned without so much as a scratch,” Achilles interjected. “But what about you? Surely a woman with your skills wouldn’t have let him go in alone!”

Connor inserted, “I told her to stay outside. I knew it would be dangerous and I wanted to be sure that if anything happened to me she would be able to take up the mantel and continue our fight against the Templars.” He said nothing of her freezing up, and so Alsoomse smiled at him gratefully.

“Ah, I suppose that was a wise thing to do,” Achilles finally relented as he finished unwrapping the parcel, revealing a beautiful set of Assassin robes.

“Who does _that_ belong to?” Connor inquired in surprise.

“These were the robes of the first Assassin to come to the colonies,” Achilles informed his student. Connor rested his hands on the robes, but whether out of reverence or curiosity, Alsoomse wasn’t certain.

“They are beautiful,” Alsoomse commented, taking her turn to inspect the robes herself. She wondered when Connor would determine her ready for a set of robes of her own. Hopefully her robes would still be a reflection of where she came from, but that was a conversation that she would save for another day.

 

 The last of the snow had finally thawed out, allowing Alsoomse to wear lighter clothing. Her blanket was folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Soon their food would have more variety thanks to fruit, vegetables, and roots. Alsoomse thought of the sparse bit of land in front of the manor. It would be perfect for growing crops. It was true, Warren and Prudence had fields, but the huntress rather enjoyed doing the work herself. With the thought in mind she stepped outside and went to search for Connor.

The man had gone out not long ago and was headed toward Norris’ mine, so perhaps Connor was still in the area. Alsoome ran as she normally did, enjoying the feel of the wind on her skin. As she slowed by the river she saw Norris settled on the ground with a pan in his hands. “Good afternoon, Norris,” she greeted, causing him to look up.

“Ah, _bonsoir_ ,” Norris replied back. “What are you up to?”

“Actually, I was hoping to ask Ratonhnhaké:ton for something. Would you happen to know where he is?” she inquired of him. Alsoomse paused and looked at Norris’ pan in confusion. “What exactly are you doing anyway?”

“Panning for gold,” Norris replied, dumping the useless soil back on the bank. “Eh, trying to anyway.”

Alsoomse snorted and crouched, watching him. “What purpose does this serve?” she wondered. Was this something he did in his leisure time or was of some sort of importance?

“Gold is valuable,” Norris responded simply, shrugging. “I’ve had steady work at the mine here thanks to Connor, but it never hurts to have a little extra padding when possible.”

“I suppose not, but I see no use for it.”

“ _Non_ , I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Alsoomse shook her head. What was valuable to her was the earth’s bounty and the fresh water of the rivers. Everything else was secondary. With a huff she repeated, “Norris, have you seen Ratonhnhaké:ton?”

Norris stood and dumped the damp soil again. “ _Oui_ , I have,” he confirmed, moving upstream to where his home was. Alsoomse fought back a growl as she stood and followed. Once she caught up to the man, she grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Where?” she repeated yet again, her patience wearing thin.

“He went off to ask Prudence a question,” Norris finally replied. “Now, can you let me go? Nature is calling!” Alsoomse grimaced and released his arm, watching him dart off. Clearly it had been a bad idea for him to pan for gold at the river with a full bladder. The sound of trickling water did no good on that end.

Alsoomse turned on her heel and ascended the hill in the opposite direction. Connor was all over the place today…. Then again, he was always helping his neighbors even with the simplest of errands. Just as she thought this, the man himself was coming toward her. “Ratonhnhaké:ton!” Alsoomse called, raising her arm to catch his attention. Connor looked up and offered the hint of a grin.

“Enjoying the sunshine?” he asked her as she caught up to him.

“I was looking for you, actually.”

“Really?” Connor glanced over at the river where Norris was. “Have you seen where Norris went off to?”

It seemed they were all running in circles today. “He returned to his home saying that ‘nature was calling,’” Alsoomse offered.

Connor nodded and headed in that direction. “Let me finish this errand with Norris and then we can discuss what you came all the way out here for.”

“Very well.” Alsoomse followed Connor to Norris’ home. Taking note of what she told him, Connor tentatively knocked on the door of the outhouse just nearby Norris’ house. Alsoomse stood off to the side and waited patiently for Connor to finish.

“Norris, are you in there?” he asked. Alsoomse folded her arms across her chest and fought back a chuckle. She herself would have simply waited for Norris to finish, but she kept her opinions to herself.

“Uh, _oui_!” Norris replied awkwardly. Alsoomse covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her laugh.

Connor blushed brightly, turning slightly to Alsoomse as if hoping she’d be able to help him save face. “Oh, I will find you a little later then,” he managed to choke out.

“ _Non, non_! It’s all right!” Norris assured his friend, still inside the outhouse. “What is it?” Apparently he was finished, as he briskly stepped outside and shut the door behind him. He did his best to pretend that Alsoomse wasn’t there.

“Prudence advised a bunch of wildflowers,” Connor told Norris. Alsoomse quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. What was this all about?

“Really? Are you sure?” Norris rested his hands on his hips, his face mimicking Alsoomse’s. “Doesn’t seem right….”

All Connor could do was sigh softly and shrug. “This was Prudence’s advice,” he reminded Norris. “If this does not work we can try something else.” With that he pulled out the flowers he had collected and handed the sprigs to the Frenchman.

“Well, it couldn’t hurt,” Norris murmured, trying his best to sound convinced. “ _Merci_ , my friend. I’ll let you know how things go. _Au revoir_.”

Connor nodded and turned away, headed back down the hill with Alsoomse on his heels. “What was this about flowers?” she asked curiously.

“Norris has an… interest for Myriam,” he explained.

“And Prudence recommended flowers?”

“Yes.”

Alsoomse grimaced. Norris was correct; this didn’t seem right. “I probably would have suggested something else,” she muttered.

Connor turned and looked at her. In the sunlight Alsoomse’s hair shone like the feathers of a raven. “Like what?”

“Myriam is a practical woman,” she pointed out. “She has spent years surviving in the forest. What use would flowers be to her? Perhaps later, when she and Norris become closer it would be all right, but if a man has interest in a woman he should be able to show he understands her.”

Connor blinked.

“Think about it: if a man were to give me a gift, do you think I would appreciate flowers as much as I would skins for new moccasins?”

“Perhaps not,” he admitted. He briefly glanced down at her feet. The floral patterns of beads that decorated her moccasins were beautiful and well-kept. “ _Would_ you mind flowers?”

Alsoomse hummed lightly. “No,” she admitted, “not if they came from the right man. That has yet to happen.”

Connor chuckled and leaned against a tree, large arms folded over his chest. “The way you say that, it sounds as if it occurred quite often.”

“Unfortunately.” Alsoomse sat down on a nearby log, crossing her legs. “I was focused on other things, much to my mother’s chagrin. Most of my cousins are already married.” She shrugged, unbothered, as she gazed out across the countryside. Her eyes shone like fire, however more like a warm glow than a blazing flame.

The Mohawk hunter slid down to sit on his ankles so that they were at eye level. “I left before I even had a chance to investigate the world of women,” he mumbled shyly.

“Is that why you are so terrible with them?”

Connor blinked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Alsoomse couldn’t help but laugh. “I am not too familiar with how colonists convey attraction to one another, but I can surmise that when a woman drops a handkerchief, it is meant to be picked up by the man in question,” she mused. “You may not have not noticed, but quite a few handkerchiefs have wound up on the ground just in the past month alone.”

No, Connor had not noticed. He would merely greet the travelers he came across before moving on, male or female. In any case, what time did he have to court a woman? He would not rest until each of his targets were eliminated, and he would help Alsoomse find her brother’s murderer and finish the monster as well. Anything else would simply have to wait.

Connor folded his hands and stared out toward the horizon as well. The pair fell into comfortable silence. They often shared moments like this. Neither would have anything to say so they would merely enjoy the beautiful world around them. It was strange how quickly he and Alsoomse had bonded, although perhaps their similar backgrounds played a part. They never pried in each other’s stories, bits and pieces coming of their own accord.

“You had a question for me,” Connor reminded her after a few more moments.

“Yes,” Alsoomse recalled. She turned her head to her mentor. “I was thinking, that large field in front of the manor is not being put to use. Back home I tended to the crops with the other women. It kept my hands busy when there wasn’t an enemy to fight or game to hunt. I… find it peaceful.”

“Do you wish to grow crops of your own in that field?” Alsoomse nodded. “I will check with Achilles but I doubt that will be a problem.”

She smiled. “Thank you,” she murmured. Connor smiled back. He looked at the sky and sighed softly. “Shall we go home and ask then?”

Connor laughed and stood, offering Alsoomse his hand. “I suppose we must,” he replied. Alsoomse took his hand and he pulled her up. They turned toward the manor and climbed the hill together.

 

Achilles had consented, and with the help of Warren and Prudence, Alsoomse was able to dig up the earth and plant the seeds. Lance was much help in building a fence to protect the crops from being stolen away by animals from the forest. The vegetables were only seedlings now, but by summer they would sprout and begin to ripen for the harvest. When the Shawnee woman rose, she visited her garden and before she went to sleep she would tend to it again.

Connor found that this brought a softer side out of his friend. She treasured these little seeds and the life that would grow from them. He often heard Alsoomse singing as she worked in the field, the songs unfamiliar but he was beginning to understand them thanks to her tutelage of the Shawnee language. Soon it became a way for them to multitask. Most of the time now, when she worked, he would quiz her on Assassin history or they would teach each other their mother tongues.

The pair spoke now, Connor taking a turn at watering the earth while Alsoomse supervised. Soon corn, squash, and beans would grow in healthy abundance. “William Johnson is dead, and with him, the Templar plot to steal the land of my people,” Connor was saying. “But in ending this threat, I have revealed another. On his body was a letter addressed to John Pitcairn, containing orders to root out and destroy Patriot weapons and supplies. Should he succeed in this, the colonists will be unable to maintain their resistance and the Templars will surely take control. So long as Pitcairn lives, the danger remains. We need to find him. He needs to die.”

“I remember,” Alsoomse responded. While her people had chosen to fight alongside the British in this matter, she could not. If what Connor said was true, the Crown could not keep control of the colonies. Not with the Templars backing it. “You showed me the letter. But so far we have uncovered nothing detailing his whereabouts. Just as we pin him down he moves on.” She sighed and hopped off the fence that she was sitting on, glancing briefly at the rising sun.

Connor himself sighed and stalked off, carelessly opening the gate and walking through. Alsoomse frowned. It seemed their lack of success lately had left a bitter taste in his mouth. She carefully closed the gate behind her as she followed him back to the manor. His strides were long and his steps were heavy. _Great Kokumthena, what upsets him so?_ Alsoomse thought to herself as she tried to catch up. The man was inside the manor and out of her sight within moments.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton?” she called, noting the watering can neatly set on the floor beside the door before looking up. The secret door to the basement was open.

“Alsoomse? What is it?” Achilles asked, appearing from his bedroom.

She pointed to the open door. “Ratonhnhaké:ton. He… stormed off when we were speaking of Pitcairn. He seemed upset. I am worried for him.”

Achilles hummed in understanding. “Come, let us see if we can’t pry it out of him,” the old man said.

“Would it not be better to give him his peace?”

“Sometimes we can let that be the case, but if this is a question of John Pitcairn, it’s better that we talk to him about it now.”

Alsoomse nodded and stepped down the stairs, Achilles following slowly behind. She saw Connor standing in front of their little shrine of targets, a single candle lit so that he could gaze upon the portraits. When she got close enough, she gently rested her hand on his arm. “Ratonhnhaké:ton,” she repeated, this time in a whisper. They both quietly waited for Achilles reached them before Connor spoke.

“I thought it might bring clarity or instill a sense of accomplishment, but all I feel is… regret,” he uttered, his eyes glued to the portrait of William Johnson.

“Hold fast to that. Such sacrifices should never come lightly,” Achilles replied, filling in his role as Connor’s mentor.

“I had to do it,” Connor’s voice jumped in. “Not only for my people but for all the others Johnson would have harmed.”

Alsoomse squeezed Connor’s arm reassuringly. “If there had been a better way I know you would have pursued it,” she informed him in a soft tone. Connor sighed deeply. Her confidence in him was helpful. A little.

“It’s a start, but to be truly free of Templar influence,” Achilles continued, “all of them must be dealt with in turn. Even your father—”

“I know,” Connor interjected aggressively.

“You speak the words, but do you believe them?” Before Connor could muster any sort of response the three of them could hear knocking at the front door. “Seems we’ve company,” Achilles mused. As he began to hobble up the stairs, Alsoomse stopped Connor from following.

“Why did you not mention this sooner?” she asked him. Johnson had been dead for a while now. Connor could see the genuine concern in her eyes.

“I rarely tell others about what is on my mind,” he muttered, shuffling his feet. “It is not to offend you.”

Alsoomse shook her head. “I am not offended,” she assured him. “I just want you to know that you do not have to bear this burden alone.”

Connor sighed softly and nodded. “Thank you, Alsoomse. I… I am glad that you are here,” he murmured before looking up. “Come. We’re wanted elsewhere.” When they reached up the stairs, they could see Achilles reading a letter while a man neither had met was standing just outside. “What is it?” Connor asked, indicating to the letter.

Achilles offered the letter to Alsoomse, which she took and began reading for herself. “A request for aid from Paul Revere,” was Achilles’ reply. “Seems the Redcoats are up to something in Boston. Guess you made an impression on the Sons of Liberty.” He gave Connor a small grin. Almost of pride.

“The letter reminds me of the one from Patrick Henry that I gave to you,” Alsoomse noted thoughtfully, looking up at Connor.

“They mistake me for one of their own,” Connor remarked unhappily before turning to the stranger at the door. “Please tell Mister Revere that he has my sympathies, but I cannot help at present.” The man nodded and turned to walk away, but Alsoomse’s voice piped up again as she finished the letter.

“You might wish to reconsider. John Pitcairn is mentioned by name.” Alsoomse looked up and arched her eyebrow, capturing Connor’s gaze.

“Where am I to go?” Connor demanded.

The stranger finally spoke up. “Mister Revere’s house in Boston,” he informed him. “If you’d like, I can—” But he was cut off as Connor marched past him with newfound purpose in his step.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton, wait!” Alsoomse called but it was no use. He was already striding toward the stables. She groaned and turned to the man. “Just give me the address and when Mister Revere wishes to meet.” After he had done so, he left and Alsoomse chased after Connor. His horse was done being groomed and was currently being tacked.

“We have no time to waste,” he said before she got a word out.

“Explain to me where and when Paul Revere wants to meet and then we may go,” she told him, crossing her arms across her chest. Connor stalled his work.

“I do not know,” he admitted. He had not read the letter nor let the stranger finish what he was saying.

“No., you don't.” Alsoomse sighed and approached her own stallion, patting him on the nose affectionately. “I have Revere’s home address and the man informed me that Revere wishes to meet us—well, _you_ —tomorrow night. We still have time to get there.”

Connor leaned over the stall wall separating their horses and watched her start brushing the steed. “Patience has never been my strongest suit.”

Alsoomse smirked and looked up at him. “I noticed. You should put that into practice more often.” Connor ducked his head sheepishly.

“I should,” he agreed. “So long as you continue improving in your use of firearms.”

“I think I can manage that.” Connor slowed his pace tacking his horse, only mounting once Alsoomse was ready. As their horses walked at a steady gait past the manor, Achilles stood in the doorway and waved at them farewell. “I need to stop by Warren and Prudence’s farm,” she informed her companion. “I need someone to watch my garden while we are away.”

Connor nodded and nudged his horse to that direction. “They will be more than happy to help,” he predicted. The horses trotted down the road and pulled to a stop in front of the house. They rounded to the back and saw that Prudence and Warren were joined with Lance. Alsoomse noted a crib and quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. Prudence had once confided in her that she and her husband had been trying to conceive for many years. Perhaps that time has finally come.

Alsoomse greeted everyone before asking, “What is going on?”

“Do you want to tell them, my love?” Warren inquired of his wife.

“I’m pregnant!” Prudence announced excitedly.

“Really?” Alsoomse exclaimed.

“Congratulations!” Connor phrased happily.

“It’s been a long time coming,” Warren muttered, touching Prudence’s shoulders affectionately. “It does present a slight problem, however. There’s no doctor for miles.”

Alsoomse frowned. “I am a healer, but by no means am I a midwife or doctor,” she stated in an unfortunate tone.

“Well, then we should find one,” Connor insisted with a smile.

Warren paused thoughtfully for a moment. “I know of one that may consider moving here,” he mused. “His name is Dr. Lyle White. It’s been a turn since we last saw him but you might try his old house in Boston.”

Alsoomse glanced at Connor. “We are actually on our way to Boston now for a meeting,” she informed the couple. “We can search for him while we are there.” Connor nodded in agreement.

“We will have a little time before the meeting. It should not be difficult to find,” he added.

“Then it’s settled! Here, I’ll write down his address for you,” Warren said, thrilled. He darted inside briefly, returning with a scrap of paper with Dr. White’s address on it. Alsoomse took it and slipped it in her saddlebag where Paul Revere’s address also resided. "Thank you both so much. This means a lot.”

Connor rested a reassuring hand on Warren’s shoulder. “I will do anything for my friends and I know Alsoomse will too,” he murmured.

Alsoomse approached Prudence and embraced her. “I am so happy for you,” she whispered. “May the Creator bless you both.”

“Thank you, Alsoomse,” Prudence breathed happily.

“We should go,” Connor finally said, briefly touching Alsoomse on the arm. She nodded and smiled at her friend before the pair mounted their horses and cantered off. They galloped to Boston at top speed, stopping briefly only to eat before they were riding once more. They wove around British patrols and hungry predators. By the time they had arrived in Boston, the sun was beginning to set.

They stayed at an inn that night. Connor had paid handsomely for a room that was secluded. He had overheard the comments that came from the other guests, especially about Alsoomse. Connor practically growled at one man who was blatantly ogling the Shawnee woman. Alsoomse merely grabbed him at the robe and pulled him upstairs. “They are not worth it,” she whispered.

Connor and Alsoomse stepped inside their shared room. “I do not appreciate how these men speak of you,” he hissed in her ear as he shut the door.

Alsoomse laughed wryly. “I can handle a few foul-mouthed men,” she insisted, resting her hands on her hips. Her words didn’t remove Connor’s scowl.

“Doesn’t make it right,” he growled, sighing as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“No, it does not,” Alsoomse agreed, sitting down next to him. “Just… just let me handle it, all right? You know I can take care of myself.”

Connor clenched his jaw and his hands fidgeted, but he didn’t argue further. “The outsiders have no respect for women,” he murmured with a shake of his head. Gently, Alsoomse rested her hand on his shoulder.

“That is their own problem. We have ours to deal with.” She smiled reassuringly. Finally, Connor smiled back. It seemed Alsoomse always knew what to say to ease his mind. “Come on, we should get some sleep. We need to find Dr. White as well as Paul Revere tomorrow and I doubt it will be an easy day for either of us,” she continued. Connor sighed and nodded.

They undressed to their underclothes and slipped under the bed sheet. Connor tried _very_ hard to forget the fact that Alsoomse wore only a sheath to protect her modesty. He rolled onto his stomach, head turned away from her. Alsoomse shifted onto her side, staring at the wall. She had grown so accustomed to sleeping in her own room that it was odd to share with another again. Granted, before she came here she slept beside her family, but Connor wasn’t family. He was a friend. A _male_ friend. Oh, Great Spirit, her mother would have some things to say about that.

Alsoomse soon fell asleep but Connor lay awake a while longer. He was close to killing Pitcairn. He could feel it. He just needed to find him. And what of Alsoomse’s hunt to find her brother’s killer? The man had been a recruit. If Connor planned to rebuild the Brotherhood this needed to be just as important as the rest of his missions. One of his own had been murdered. Connor sighed deeply and shifted a little to get comfortable. He would figure it out soon enough. In the meantime, he would sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so pleasant guys, it's not even funny. Gosh, I love these two. They're absolute angels. Plus they're getting more domestic with each other. :)))))  
> I'm so tempted to update this more often. I've been in too much of an AC drought as of late (ngl news of Voltron's season 7 overwhelmed me and drowned me with anxiety so that was fun lmao but this was the distraction I needed).  
> Thank you for reading and please feel free to leave a comment down below!


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another chapter!  
> We are finally starting to get into the nitty gritty of the Revolution. As a historian the American Revolution is one of my ultimate loves so I'm really enjoying writing this fic. ^.^  
> I almost made this chapter longer but I finally wound up chopping it in half. lol I make them longer in the future but we'll see. In the meantime, please enjoy!

Connor groaned lightly as he opened his eyes. The sunlight was just poking through the window. Slowly he rolled onto his back and sat up, rubbing away the sleep. A part of him didn’t feel like getting up. For once it would be nice to be able to sleep late and have a leisure day. Unfortunately that wouldn’t happen any time soon, if ever. A light sigh caused him to turn his head.

Alsoomse was just waking up herself. She stretched, arms extended above her head while her back arched. Her loose black hair was wild; it needed brushing. Connor felt an inexplicable desire to run his fingers through the long tresses. Instead, he said, “Good morning.”

“Hello,” Alsoomse responded, sitting up and rubbing her forehead. She glanced over at her bedmate. He looked just as sleepy as she felt, but regardless she threw back the bedsheet and pulled herself out of bed. Long legs stretched from beneath the sheath she wore, allowing Connor to notice several scars on her thighs. His eyebrows furrowed together. When did she gain these? She had once told him she had seen battle, but how often? Quickly he diverted his eyes, dragging himself out of bed.

“If you’d like, I can go downstairs and get us some breakfast,” he offered as he began to pull on his robes. Alsoomse nodded, wrapping the wool skirt around her waist.

“That will be fine,” she agreed.

After Connor dressed and freshened up he headed downstairs to grab some food. Few patrons were out, the majority most likely nursing hangovers. The food wasn’t exactly fine dining but it would suit their purposes. When he returned Alsoomse was fully dressed. “Beef and eggs,” Connor offered, giving her a plate. She accepted it and scarfed it down. They had forgotten to eat dinner the night before so having food in her stomach again was a blessing. “Doctor White’s house should be nearby,” Connor surmised after they had finished eating, pulling out the address Warren had given them. Next to it he had a map of Boston. Alsoomse peered around his arm as she looked down at the documents.

“I doubt he will be difficult to find. I heard his name mentioned in passing last night,” Alsoomse informed him. “Come.”

They grabbed their things and left, tacking their horses and mounting. The streets were steadily filling with people, so Alsoomse and Connor were careful to navigate around the passerby. Connor was right, the house wasn’t far. A man was loitering just outside the door with a pipe in hand, and so they dismounted and approached him.

“Dr. White?” Connor inquired.

“No,” the man denied. “He’s the drunken sot around the corner. If you can get his attention, tell him I quit. All this ire on him, not worth getting caught in it. I have a family!” The man strode off in irritation without another word.

Alsoomse glanced up at Connor. What was the stranger rambling about? “Many people have families,” she uttered with a roll of her eyes. “What do you think that was all about?”

“I have no idea,” Connor replied with a shrug. “I suppose we will find out soon enough.” They walked down the block, rounding the corner the man spoke of. Up ahead they noticed a small crowd. They were quite rowdy. As they got closer they noticed the crowd was in the process of beating one man into a pulp.

Acting quickly, Connor and Alsoomse jumped in. The crowd of men only grew angrier, flying fists that were easily dodged. When he had a chance, Connor looked over his shoulder to see how Alsoomse was holding up. She was barely struggling at all, already having two men on the ground with a bloody nose or busted jaw. The natives mowed down the rest, the mob quickly retreating when they realized they were losing.

Connor panted for a moment, resting his hands on his knees. Alsoomse’s chest rose up and down as she tried to catch her breath, knuckles red and bleeding. She didn’t seem bothered by it, merely wrapping her hands in cloth she had in her bag.

With his breath finally caught, Connor turned to the man they aided. “Dr. White?” he assumed, approaching him.

“Yes?” the man demanded, grabbing his previously abandoned pipe.

“My name is Connor,” the assassin introduced. “This is Alsoomse.” He nodded over to the woman, who approached to stand by his side.

“And what can I help you with? Another quote for the broadsheets for you to twist against me?” Dr. White was clearly drunk, but at least his sentences remained concise.

Connor and Alsoomse shared confused stares. “We are here to make you an offer,” Alsoomse interjected impatiently.

“Don’t you know who I am?” Dr. White snapped. “I’m the doctor the British have been slandering all over town. ‘White Death?’ No?” He slid down to the ground and instantly grabbed the bottle next to him.

It was Connor’s turn to be impatient. With a heavy sigh he replied, “I was given your name by my friends Warren and Prudence. Prudence is with child and requires a doctor’s hand.”

Dr. White’s eyes widened. “Prudence is _pregnant_?!” he practically yelled. “Ha! They have been trying for years, it seems. Maybe getting away from Boston is exactly what I need.” He managed to get back on his feet. There was no way he’d be able to get to the Homestead on his own and Connor doubted whether he and Alsoomse would be able to escort him there.

“I will let a carriage for you,” Connor told him. “Pack your things. Alsoomse will help you.” He glanced at Alsoomse to ensure she agreed to the plan.

“I can do that,” she confirmed. Alsoomse grabbed the bottle from the ground and before Dr. White could take it from her, she tipped it over and poured what was left onto the ground. “You will not be needing this. Drink is only poison.”

Dr. White huffed. “Seems just fine to me,” he muttered before sauntering off toward his home. Alsoomse wasn’t too sure about this doctor, but if Warren and Prudence vouched for him, she would at the very least give the man a chance. Connor smirked as he watched the Shawnee woman tail after the man before heading off to find a carriage willing to take the doctor to the Homestead.

It seemed the doctor had little to pack, for when Connor returned with the carriage and driver, Alsoomse and Dr. White were already outside with his bags. Whatever had gone on in his absence created a scowl on his female companion’s face. _Warren, you had best be right about this man,_ Connor thought to himself.

“This carriage will take you to our Homestead,” Connor explained. “I already paid the driver. Warren and Prudence will be expecting you, so I doubt you will miss them from the road.”

Dr. White nodded. To give herself something to do, Alsoomse loaded the carriage with his belongings. “Thank you, Connor and Al… Alsoo….”

“Alsoomse,” she repeated with a huff. It really wasn’t that difficult.

“God, I hope I remember that.”

Alsoomse’s eyes hardened. Connor flinched. This reminded him of something Achilles said about his own Mohawk name. “You will,” he spoke up. “Alsoomse stays with me so you will see her often.”

Dr. White eyed the pair. “Are you two… you know…?”

Connor blinked. Then it dawned on him. “No!” the pair exclaimed at the same time. “No,” Connor repeated. “We stay at the manor with my mentor, Achilles. We… sleep separately.” He blushed furiously. Last night that wasn’t necessarily true but the good doctor didn’t need to know that.

“You colonials have an odd sense about how men and women should behave around each other,” Alsoomse replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “Would it bother you if we were?”

Dr. White eyed her curiously. She was certainly unlike any woman he had ever met, he could give her that much. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” was his response.

With final farewells, Dr. White climbed into the carriage. The driver clicked his tongue and flicked the reins, nudging the horses forward. They carriage rolled away. As it grew smaller, Alsoomse spoke again. “Do you think he is a good enough doctor?” she wondered aloud.

“Hopefully, if he abandons the bottle,” Connor murmured, looking down at her. “That really bothered you, I noticed.”

Alsoomse sighed and perched herself on a nearby barrel. “Several men in my village got addicted to the drink,” she informed him, looking down at her hands. “When drunk they were like demons. They were angry and would beat their wives. One… propositioned me. I refused. I had to fight him off.” She pulled down the sleeve of her sheath and rotated so that Connor could see a scar on the back of her shoulder. “He did that as I first tried to get away.”

Connor clenched his jaw. He raised his hand and traced his fingers over the scar. “He didn’t….”

“No.” He visibly sighed in relief when Alsoomse turned back to him. “I stabbed him in the leg once I gained control of the knife. The pain held him off just long enough for me to run to my father.”

“I am so sorry,” Connor crooned. He didn’t want to touch a tankard of gin ever again now. Not if it could turn him into an animal like that.

“Please, there is no need,” Alsoomse assured him, standing again. “I got away and that is all that matters. The chief dealt with him and he no longer drinks.”

“Good.” Connor saw Alsoomse in a different light. She was a warrior just as she said she was, but to fight one of her own must be a painful feeling. Connor hoped he never had to harm one of his own people. He doubted he could forgive himself.

Alsoomse watched him war with his emotions. She could see sadness, anger, and confusion, so she gently rested her hand on his chest. “Please, stop worrying about it. I told you I could handle myself.” She smirked, recalling their conversation from last night. Connor managed a weak smile back.

“We should find Paul Revere’s house,” he murmured. He didn’t want to think about Alsoomse’s ordeal anymore. She nodded and followed him, mounting her horse. The large beast would have waited a hundred nights for her to return. Connor’s had wandered some but he managed to reclaim the steed. With a nudge, they both trotted off in the direction of Revere’s home.

 

The pair idled about as they waited for the sun to set. Connor was irritable with impatience even when Alsoomse tried to distract him. More language lessons filled their time until at last the sun had set and the church bells chimed. They watched as a pair of men entered the house. Revere’s other associates perhaps? When it seemed the two men were the only others, Connor took large strides across the street, Alsoomse hot on his heels. He burst through the door.

“Ah, Connor! What a relief! You came!” a man wearing a tricorn hat exclaimed. Alsoomse assumed this was Revere. The man excitedly approached Connor and placed his hand on Connor’s arm, which he aggressively shook off. Revere chuckled uncomfortably before moving on. “Allow me to… introduce you to William Dawes and Robert Newman.” He took a double take, glancing at Alsoomse. He didn’t recall Sam Adams mentioning a woman. “Eh, who’s this?”

“My name is Alsoomse,” the Shawnee woman replied simply. “You must be Paul Revere.”

“Your letter said John Pitcairn was here,” Connor butted in, his body tense. Alsoomse briefly rested a reassuring hand on his back before dropping it. He relaxed. Minutely.

“Aye,” Revere continued. “He’s readying an assault on Lexington, where Adams and Hancock have taken shelter. After that, he will march on Concord—hoping to destroy weapons and supplies. You must help us!”

While Alsoomse found this man a little presumptuous, Connor merely took it in stride. “Only tell me where to find him and I will put a stop to this,” Connor growled, pacing.

“He has dozens, if not hundreds, of soldiers at his command. You cannot hope to match him by yourself. But fear not, for you will not have to!”

“Explain,” Alsoomse commanded lightly, hands on her hips and eyes scrutinizing the man’s every movement.

“We have an entire army of our own, merely awaiting the order to take up arms.”

“Then you must call upon them,” Connor told him, facing Revere directly. The Bostonian was easily dwarfed by Connor’s size and yet it didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest.

Revere put his hand on Connor—again. Connor fought back the urge to break the offending appendage. “Indeed, you and I will cross the Charles River and rouse the boys,” he explained. “William, I need you to take the overland route and do the same. Robert, I need you up in Christ Church. Light the signal. Two lanterns—our enemies come by sea!” As the men left to do as they were told, Revere peaked over at Alsoomse. “Uh, what can you do while we’re out rallying our men?”

Alsoomse blinked, unimpressed. “I can handle myself as well as any man,” she insisted sternly. “I go where Ratonhnhaké:ton goes.” Revere still stared it her. “His birth name is Ratonhnhaké:ton, you lot just call him Connor.”

“Ah.” Paul shuffled awkwardly before redirecting his attention to Connor. “No time for dawdling, my friend! We have lives to save,” he continued on, touching Connor on the arm _again_. Connor snarled and grabbed the man’s wrist, but Revere didn’t seem to notice the aggression. Instead he grabbed Connor’s wrist as if they were playing some sort of game. “Come on!”

Connor frowned, not precisely thrilled but headed toward the door. Alsoomse followed next. She could tell that this was going to be a long night, and it had nothing to do with alerting the Patriots about the oncoming British onslaught. Revere was getting on her nerves, not to mention Connor’s obvious desire to break every bone in the colonial man’s hand.

They rode to the river and left their horses behind, much to Alsoomse’s chagrin. She worried about her stallion. What if someone stole him or he got hurt? She prayed that the Great Spirit would protect her steed in her absence and one day reunite them. Connor could see the dilemma raging in Alsoomse’s heart as she gave her horse’s neck one last affectionate stroke.

“Alsoomse,” he murmured as he stepped into the boat after Revere and offered his hand. With a sigh she took it, letting Connor pull her in next to him. Revere would be giving directions while the two of them navigated the dingy. The man chattered away while Connor and Alsoomse rowed. They let him at it in peace, their minds fully focused on the mission now.

By the time they reached their designated shore, Alsoomse’s arms felt like soggy bread. She rubbed her biceps for a moment as Revere hopped off the boat. Connor stood and once again offered his hand to Alsoomse, helping her off the boat before jumping out after her. Every time there was contact between them Connor felt his core tighten or his heart pound. It was an odd sensation, one he normally felt when he felt anxious. What was it about his own friend that made him anxious? Or was this mission merely fooling him?

Groaning, the assassin tugged the boat to the shore so that it wouldn’t drift off as Revere remarked, “Ah, they’ve only left a single horse. We’ll have to ride together.” He paused for a moment before mounting the horse on its hindquarters, leaving the saddle free. “You take the reins. I’ll navigate.”

“A horse can hardly carry three riders,” Alsoomse reminded him with a cocked eyebrow. She turned and helped Connor with the boat. The thing was heavier than it looked. “Ratonhnhaké:ton, go with him. I will run and track you. I can soon find a horse of my own.”

“Just stay close,” Connor requested.

“Quickly, Connor! Get on the horse!” Paul interrupted them as they finally stabilized the rowboat. The look on Connor’s face looked as if he much preferred to murder the man.

“Go,” Alsoomse reminded him, nudging him forward. “I will find you.”

Finally with a nod, Connor strolled to the steed and mounted, more or less accidentally hitting Revere in the leg with his foot. Alsoomse bit back a grin, setting her feet to prepare for the chase. She was fast, but she hoped to find a horse to commandeer sooner rather than later. She had a feeling this journey would be a tiresome one.

“I’ll guide you toward those we need to alert. Follow my directions and we’ll be done in no time!” Revere instructed as Connor nudged a horse to a trot, Alsoomse jogging just behind. As he sped up so did she, taking to the trees. They journeyed straight ahead for some time until a splash of red loomed up ahead. Connor took a sharp turn to the left and slow to a steady walk. They couldn’t risk alerting the British. “Redcoats,” the Patriot hissed under his breath. “What are they doing here?”

“They must be scouts,” Connor presumed, looking up to see if Alsoomse was keeping up. She was a little behind them, but by his slowing down she had managed to catch up some. Up ahead they could see a house but no horses, quietly approaching it. Alsoomse groaned as she rolled onto the roof. Her thighs ached, her hands burned, and her lungs were gasping for air. Her pace slowed. She would have to slow down and follow the tracks of Connor’s horse.

Up ahead were a couple more houses and with a great sigh of relief the Shawnee saw a horse lazily chewing on some grass. Alsoomse dropped to the ground, falling onto her back as she panted. Connor pulled his horse to a stop, worry etched into his features. “Let’s continue the search on foot,” Revere offered. It would seem they had reached their first destination just in the nick of time. Quietly the Son of Liberty slid down from the horse and approached the woman, offering her his hand. After a moment she took it and he pulled her up to her feet.

“Thank you,” she panted softly, resting her hands on her knees.

“Redcoats are coming,” Connor murmured as he dismounted, leading the horse to behind the house. “We should circle around.” He was half-ready to carry Alsoomse on his back if he had to. Gently he rested a hand on Alsoomse’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Alsoomse nodded. “I can walk,” she assured him. “Come on.” The trio sidled behind the house, peeping around the corner as they watched the Redcoat patrol blindly march past them. Alsoomse covered her mouth to muffle her still-panting breath until at last the British patrol turned away from their sight. Stealthily Connor shifted over to the next house, never for a moment asking Revere at which house he should be knocking. How did he know where to go?

“This is it! You have got the right place!” Revere exclaimed, equally surprised. Alsoomse shushed him; the Redcoats could still hear them if they were loud enough. Politely, Connor knocked on the door several times. Not a moment later and the door opened. A bearded man appeared. “Let everyone know that the Regulars march for Lexington and Concord,” Paul informed him.

“The British are coming!” the man yelled inside, turning to what Alsoomse assumed was a gathering of men waiting for news.

Once the door was shut Connor gave a curt nod before turning to his companions. “Back in the saddle, my friend. We have more people to warn. And it seems to me,” Revere turned to the nearby horse, “we finally have another horse for our dear lady.” Alsoomse cocked an eyebrow at the odd phrasing but said nothing, only feeling grateful she didn’t have to run anymore. It didn’t matter that she was stealing the horse. There were more important things.

Alsoomse struggled mounting her newfound horse. She would be riding bareback and thus had no stirrup to step into. “Here,” Connor spoke, approaching her. He crouched slightly and positioned his hands in front of her to give Alsoomse aid. Grateful, she stepped onto his curved palms and hoisted herself up, settling onto the steed’s back. Connor patted the horse on the neck, ignoring Revere’s impatient sigh in the background. “Try not to wear yourself out. We have a long night ahead of us.”

“I will be fine,” Alsoomse assured him with a small smile. “Now that I have my own horse things will be easier.” Connor smiled back and patted the beast on the neck a final time before he moved to mount his own horse. It was just his luck that he still had to share a horse with Revere, but he wouldn’t burden his female companion any more than he had to. So without complaint he nudged the horse forward so that they could continue on their mission.

They headed onward, making a left at the fork just past the wheat fields before taking a shortcut in the woods. It was best not to be out in the open if they could help it. Alsoomse’s skin prickled. It wasn’t so long ago that she felt the very same tension. The other may not realize it yet but the Patriots were already at war. It wouldn’t be long before someone fired the first shot.

The next small gathering of houses was a little busier. No horses, so poor Connor would be stuck sharing his horse with Revere. Alsoomse eyed the people loitering outside warily as she watched Connor and Revere jump down from the horse. She remained. Her legs still ached and trembled from her run. How she had lasted as long as she had was a mystery to her. Connor glanced over his shoulder, gazing at her. Despite her fatigue, she looked magnificent on that horse. It would have been impossible to tell she had run several miles before receiving reprieve if he didn’t know.

Once again, the Mohawk assassin knocked politely on the door and waited patiently for it to open. When it did so, Revere spoke, “Spread the word! The Redcoats are coming out.”

“At once!” the man exclaimed before shutting his door to get to work. The trio rode off after that, no one except their guide speaking. It felt like even the trees were against them, so strong was the need to remain undetected. They tread across soft grass and damp roads in order to muffle noise.

Alsoomse pulled back her horse with a gasp. A British patrol was marching along the very bridge they needed to cross. Connor paused next to her, eyes wide as they darted around for a second option. The river was too wide and too deep to cross, so all they could do was wait. Alsoomse did her best to keep her horse calm, as he seemed to detect her stress. He snorted and pawed at the ground. “Shh,” she tried to hush him, brushing her fingers through his mane. After what felt like an eternity, the patrol passed and the three were free to cross the bridge.

Slowly they approached a large house. For whatever reason, just looking at it made Alsoomse uncomfortable. Her eyes glanced around the area to see if her instincts rang true. She anxiously watched Connor and Revere approach the house. She would have called out Connor’s name but he had already knocked. The door opened.

“The Regulars are coming,” Revere informed the man at the door.

“Here! _We’re here_!” a voice rang out from inside. A Redcoat was at the door with musket at the ready. “Get them!”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton!” the Shawnee yelled. Connor and Paul were already on the run, jumping back onto their horse just as the soldier fired a shot.

“We’ve got to shake those Redcoats!” Revere yelled, the two horses galloping at full speed. More shots rang out. “We need to lose them!”

“Alsoomse! Go!” Connor yelled, yanking his horse toward a field of tall grass. Alsoomse was right behind him, bowing close to her horse’s neck to lessen the risk of getting hit by a musket ball. She could see more Redcoats approaching from their right. Her heart hammered so loudly she could hear the pounding in her ears. Connor risked a look behind his shoulder and was relieved to see that she was still with him. They made it into the trees. No man could outrun a horse, thank the Creator.

Another few minutes passed before anyone breathed again. “That was much too close for comfort,” Revere groaned in exasperation. “Let’s take care to avoid any further surprises….” The others silently agreed as they moved on, trailing down their route until a lone house stood. Revere confirmed in Connor’s ear that this was the house they were searching for.

Alsoomse dismounted this time, the surprise attack having shaken her to her core. Connor ignored the house, instead striding over to his friend. “Are you hurt?” he whispered, resting a hand on her upper back. The Shawnee shook her head.

“No,” she assured him, “just in shock. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Alsoomse shook her head and turned fully to Connor. “Do you think Revere and his men have been betrayed?” she asked him.

Connor frowned. “I cannot say,” he replied. “Perhaps the plot was discovered and the man was forced to house them until we came.”

This did not assure her. “I knew something was not right.” With a huff Alsoomse nodded toward the house. “We have business to attend to,” she reminded her companion. Connor cleared his throat and dropped his hand, only now realizing he had held the contact this entire time. Awkwardly he turned away and noted a bemused look on Revere’s face as he knocked on the door. No response. Revere knocked again.

“Where the devil is he?” Revere huffed.

“Are you sure we are in the right place?” Connor demanded, pressing his hands together.

“Well sure, I’m sure,” the other man insisted.

Alsoomse shrugged. “Shall we try the back?” she offered before making movement to round the house. Connor followed after her with Revere in tow. All three stopped short. A very naked woman dashed in front of them, barely covering herself with a measly scrap of cloth. A man strode somewhat drunkenly after her. Alsoomse took in a sharp intake and turned her head away, heat coloring her cheeks. The man was wearing only a shirt and it did nothing to cover his man parts.

“Prescott?!” Revere exclaimed, scandalized.

“Evening, gents!” the man exclaimed casually. He hadn’t noticed Alsoomse, who had opted to sidle behind Connor. His burly size was perfect for shielding her eyes.

Revere huffed deeply. “Listen,” he uttered in annoyance, “the Regulars are out. You need to rally your men. And, uh… put on some trousers…. We have a girl present.”

Somehow Prescott had gotten his bearings. “At once!” he exclaimed, swaggering off to his front door. Connor took a step back and angled himself, still shielding Alsoomse from the distasteful display. Once the coast was clear, Alsoomse slipped out from behind him.

“That was uncomfortable,” she scoffed, briefly catching his gaze.

“I have a feeling that woman wasn’t supposed to be there,” Connor mused with a smirk. Alsoomse laughed.

“Probably not,” Alsoomse agreed. “Come, we must hurry.” She grabbed his forearm and pulled him over to her horse. “How about you ride with me and let Revere have his own horse?”

Connor offered her a grateful smile. “I would not mind that,” he admitted. He turned to Paul. “Mr. Revere, lead the way. I will ride with Alsoomse.”

Revere gave a shrug. “Fine by me,” he stated, mounting the horse with ease. Once again, Connor helped Alsoomse mount her own before he mounted in front of her. Alsoomse’s arms snaked around his waist to hold on as Connor nudged their steed forward, cantering off behind Revere. The assassin had a feeling this part of the ride would be far more enjoyable. Alsoomse was the type of company he preferred to keep.

Save for the sounds of nighttime and the thundering of hooves, the world was silent. Connor and Alsoomse used their thighs to remain secure on the horse. A saddle would have been convenient but there had been no time to find one. Alsoomse’s strongest security was her grasp on Connor’s torso. His body was made of powerful muscle built by years of training. Alsoomse had a sneaking suspicion that he would be wildly popular among the unmarried women in her village regardless of the fact that he hailed from another tribe. The poor man would have no idea what was happening.

Houses began to dot along the road again, the steeple of a church looming ahead as the trio rode into town. “Welcome to Lexington, you two. Now let’s find Hancock and Adams,” Revere proclaimed as they slowed. Connor used his secret sight to try and locate which house the two men would be hidden away in. “Hmmm. No sign of Dawes. I hope he’s all right,” Paul continued dejectedly.

“I think they are up there,” Connor offered, pointing to a larger house tucked away in the trees. Alsoomse wondered how he knew, although she admitted to herself that if she were to hide in any house here, that one would be the one she would choose.

“We can try it,” Alsoomse added. It was worth a shot. The three dismounted and left the horses to graze. Revere tentatively knocked on the door. When it opened they all released sighs of relief. The man at the door wasn’t a Redcoat. It seemed he recognized Revere too because he let the three in without a word.

They were led into the next room where three men were sitting by the fireplace. Connor picked out Samuel Adams right away, and he certainly recognized the Mohawk assassin too. “Paul. Connor. Good to see you,” he hummed, doing a double take at the sight of a woman standing next to the latter. “And you are?”

“My name is Alsoomse, but we can worry about introductions later,” the Shawnee formulated quickly before Connor strode past her, approaching Sam Adams.

“You need to leave,” Connor interrupted sharply before Adams could speak. “The Redcoats are coming.”

Adams merely waved him off. “Aye, so William’s told us,” he uttered casually, turning back to the fire. “Let them conduct their little search. They’ll find nothing.”

Connor scoffed. “You don’t understand!” he hissed. Adams turned back around and gave the assassin his full attention. “Pitcairn intends to kill you.” In the background Alsoomse nodded as Adams turned to Revere for confirmation.

“I’m afraid it’s true,” Revere admitted in disdain.

Adams took a moment to digest the information. He sighed and stood up. The other two men who were seated next to him followed suit as he said, “I suppose we have no choice, then, but to go. What of you four?”

“Dawes and I will continued on to Concord. Connor, Alsoomse, it’s best you stay here and help our man John Parker hold the town. It’ll give us time to spread the word,” Revere planned swiftly. Time was of the essence, and so he and Dawes had already left the house barely a few moments after he finished speaking.

Adams took this moment to address the Shawnee woman again. “I wish we had met under better circumstances, but it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he stated, offering Alsoomse his hand. She took it and they shook hands in greeting. “You must be very good at whatever it is you do if Connor took you along on such a dire mission.”

“Ratonhnhaké:ton did not take me anywhere,” Alsoomse correctly firmly, eyes hard as she dropped her hand. “We came together.” Connor fought back a smirk. He admired her ferocity. Adams, meanwhile, was quite startled.

“Of course,” he sputtered awkwardly. He glanced at Connor. “Quite formidable, isn’t she?”

“Very,” Connor confirmed proudly. “You and Hancock must go before it is too late.”

“Of course,” Adams repeated, clearing his throat and turning to Hancock. “Come on, old boy, let’s go.” The two men grabbed what little they had with them and hurried outside where their own horses were waiting. Soon they were gone, leaving Connor and Alsoomse alone.

Connor glanced down at Alsoomse. Despite her tall height, he still had a few inches on her. “You really do not like men making assumptions about you, do you?” inquired with a quirked eyebrow.

Alsoomse offered a small shrug. “No more than you do,” she replied simply. Once again, she was right. Despite his attempts to shield his feelings from others, she was able to read him like an open book.

Just outside the window, Connor could see the sun just beginning to peak over the horizon. Has dawn already come? He glanced down at his companion. She looked exhausted but that fire was still burning within her. “We need to find this John Parker,” he murmured, causing Alsoomse to look up at him. Despite her fatigue, she wasn’t done fighting on this day yet.

“We had best be moving then,” she replied. Connor followed her as she stepped outside. Alsoomse reached into her pouch and pulled out some meat and bread. “Here, eat. This could take all day.” Connor nodded and gratefully took his portion, wolfing it down. Her foresight was impressive.

Stomachs full, they mounted their horse. Connor made a mental note to hunt down not just one but two fully tacked horses. This was getting ridiculous having to ride bareback on a single horse. Neither of them were exactly small in stature and were undoubtedly weighing down their steed. Still, without a word of complaint breathed from either of them, they trailed down the streets of Lexington until they came across a group of ragtag men and rifles being preached to by their commanding officer. This couldn’t be the “army” Revere spoke of, could it?

Connor dismounted the horse first, stroking the neck as Alsoomse followed suit. “This… can’t be right,” she murmured in shock. These weren’t soldiers. They were boys. Farmers. They had no idea what kind of mess they were about to blunder into. They were no match against the British. Not without help.

“I think we are exactly where we are supposed to be,” Connor answered darkly. With a pang of something close to regret, he approached the man that was giving out commands at the top of his lungs. He sounded ill.

“Stand your ground, men! Don’t fire unless fired upon! But if they mean to have a war, let it begin here!” he chanted, pausing to hack a cough into his fist.

“Pitcairn!” Connor exclaimed, gazing up the hill with wide eyes. Alsoomse followed his gaze. A man on horseback was marching toward them, back erect and his coat colored brightly red. Her heart hammered.

“Disperse, you damned rebels! Lay down your arms and disperse!” the Scotsman commanded. Barely a heart followed before shots rang out and the men started scrambling like rats. Some stayed while others ran for their lives. Connor didn’t think. He grabbed Alsoomse by the waist and pulled her with him as they dodged for cover. Alsoomse gasped as rock blew off the wall just above her head.

Connor went for John Parker next just as the man was yelling, “What the deuce are you doing?! Hold your positions! Cravens! Traitors!”

The assassin grit his teeth and yanked the old man back to where Alsoomse was. He’d about had it with all these stubborn colonists. “They are not coming back! You will have to make do with those who remain,” he enunciated over the loud noises, trying to knock some sense into him. They needed to survive this.

John Parker held no patience for Connor’s words. “Don’t you lecture me on how—” He paused, peaking over the wall. Connor and Alsoomse did the same. The gunfire had stopped. “Return fire! Return fire!” Alsoomse huffed and grabbed an abandoned rifle. She cocked it, aimed, and fired. A redcoat dropped down before anyone could even blink. Connor watched on proudly. He had taught her that.

Finally, Parker acknowledged the natives’ presence next to him. “You need to get to Concord and warn the others. Show this to whoever who leads there. Should be a man by the name of James Barrett,” he explained, pulling out papers from the lapels of his coat and handing them over to Connor. He stooped over and coughed loudly, waving the two off. “Go on now.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. After ensuring the redcoats were no longer firing, Connor nudged Alsoomse forward as they stalked away from the line of fire. Already the air was a mixture of smoke and fog, making it difficult to see. Alsoomse squinted her eyes. Chaos was everywhere. Women were running away with their screaming children, men struggling to get away from the marching British. Alsoomse huffed as she knelt on the grass, hiding behind a fence until they could determine the situation before them.

“I see two horses,” she gasped, looking over her shoulder at Connor. Wordlessly they scrambled forward and each climbed on to their own steed. They heard a man yell, “Come on! We’ll meet up with the others in Concord!” They didn’t need to be told twice. Alsoomse nudged her horse forward to follow the militiaman. They didn’t have any time to waste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this entire mission Connor was 1000% percent done with everyone so it makes sense that Allie would be too. haha Hopefully Paul Revere wasn't as annoying in real life as he is in the game. :P  
> I'm trying not to make Connor and Alsoomse's romance happen too quickly, however I want them to already be comfortable to physical contact. In any case, Connor's already crushing hard, bless him.  
> Hopefully you guys liked this chapter so please leave a comment down below and I'll see y'all in a couple weeks with chapter five! :D


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